


Grace Under Fire

by the_diggler



Series: Grace Under Fire [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Firefighters, Alternate Universe - Teachers, Balthazar & Castiel Friendship, Bottom Castiel, Drama, Firefighter Dean Winchester, Fluff, M/M, Romance, Sexual Content, Teacher Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-17
Updated: 2013-02-17
Packaged: 2017-11-29 14:39:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 26,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/688118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_diggler/pseuds/the_diggler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is not just a story about how a shy History teacher and a hot-headed Firefighter meet and fall in love. It's also a story about learning, about having the courage to throw caution to the wind and fight for what you really want. With a little help from some meddling friends, of course.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I posted the first part of this at my LJ sometime after watching season 6, and at the time I had no idea what to do with it or if it would ever go anywhere. Then with the help of a few early suggestions I started to come up with a full story, and decided to make it my first attempt to write something longer than 20k words. So there's a lot of little random things I've put in here, thanks to the requests from those readers, but the recurring Star Wars references are all the result of my own geekiness :D

  
Castiel sighed as the fire alarm went off, his hand halting in mid-air before the whiteboard as shrill ringing pierced through the air. He almost laughed at the collective sigh of relief that came from his 10th grade History class, but by the time he turned around to face his students he made sure to have a stern look on his face.  
  
“All right everyone, let’s line up next to the door. Leave your things, Angela. Let’s all stay calm and keep quiet please.” he instructed as he went to the door.  
  
Taking a quick look around the hallway outside he saw Balthazar the next door down outside his French class, peering around in curiosity as well.  
  
“Did you hear anything about a drill today?” Balthazar inquired, catching sight of Castiel and walking over.  
  
Castiel frowned, shaking his head in the negative. More teachers began to emerge from their classrooms, looking around the hallway with similar expressions of puzzlement on their faces, but there was still a decided lack of panic in the air. Or smoke, for that matter.  
  
“One of the Home Ec kids has probably burned their muffins again.” Balthazar sighed overdramatically. Castiel huffed out a laugh.  
  
“Probably.” he agreed. With the exception of one minor explosion in Uriel’s chemistry lab a few years ago, most of the unscheduled fire alarms had originated from some cooking fiasco in one of Crowley’s Home Economics classes. Castiel had even begun to suspect that it was some kind of maniacal plot Crowley had hatched to convince the School Board the kitchens needed upgrading. But although Crowley usually dealt with the fires before they got out of control, the detectors still picked up the smoke, automatically setting off the alarms and calling the nearby fire department. While the students always welcomed the unexpected respite from their classes, unfortunately it meant the teachers had to re-work their lesson plans to make sure all the subject material was still covered.  
  
“Well.” Balthazar perked up suddenly, “Let’s look on the bright side!”  
  
“And what’s that?” Castiel asked, tilting his head in confusion. Balthazar smirked.  
  
“Firemen, Cassy. _Firemen_.”  
  
~  
  
Balthazar had already found Castiel again by the time the firetruck pulled into the parking lot. The kids were already well settled in their designated areas, standing around chatting and generally looking bored, and though a handful managed to look up in mild interest at the truck’s arrival no one rivalled Balthazar’s keen anticipation of the event.  
  
“Here we go.” Balthazar murmured under his breath excitedly as Principal Harvelle walked up to meet the truck. Castiel rolled his eyes at the eager leer on his friend’s face.  
  
“Balthazar...” Castiel began warningly, about to launch into a well-trodden lecture on ‘appropriate behaviour in front of the students’, but he was abruptly cut off, air knocked out of his lungs as Balthazar practically slammed a hand onto his chest, other hand clutching at his own chest over his heart.  
  
“Good Lord, I’m in love.” Balthazar breathed. Castiel followed the line of Balthazar’s gaze back to the truck, where a positively gargantuan young man had gotten out of the passenger side, long brown hair framing all angled features under his helmet, his firemen’s jacket hanging off an impossibly broad set of shoulders. Castiel had to admit, the man _was_ attractive, but nonetheless he eased Balthazar’s hand away from his shirt, frowning at his colleague in disapproval.  
  
Balthazar barely noticed, his hand dropping away obediently while the other clutched at his heart even tighter. Castiel sighed, relenting. It wasn’t like Balthazar ever listened to any of his lectures anyway. And to be honest, life would be a lot more boring if he did. So Castiel decided to let it go, yet again resigning himself to his friend’s antics.  
  
That was the moment the other firefighter got out of the driver’s side of the truck... and looked straight at him.  
  
Even from his spot across the small parking lot Castiel could see the green of the firefighter’s eyes, the spattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose, the pink of his almost feminine lips framed by the angled curve of his jaw… And as the air once again rushed out of Castiel’s chest, a part of him couldn’t help but agree with Balthazar’s sentiments completely.  
  
~  
  
“Dean?”   
  
Sam frowned.  
  
“ _Dean_.” he tried again, more loudly.   
  
When Sam _still_ didn’t get a response, he turned in the direction his brother was staring, and saw two of the school’s teachers - an attractive blond man almost comically clutching at his own chest, and a dark-haired serious looking type with large blue eyes, staring intently back in their direction.   
  
Sam narrowed his eyes. Was the blond guy hyperventilating or something? No, there was no panic there, the man was fine. And none of that explained why his brother was acting like a deer caught in the headlights.  
  
“Stay with the truck, Probie.” Rufus instructed as he climbed down from the back of the truck, interrupting Sam’s thoughts. “S’usually just a false alarm here, but stay alert anyway.”  
  
“Sure thing.” Sam replied. Rufus turned towards the Principal, clapping Dean on the back as he walked past, and his brother finally snapped out of it, following Rufus silently.  
  
Sam leaned back on the truck and looked back over at the two teachers. He noticed, with some amusement, that the dark-haired one’s gaze followed Dean’s back as his brother walked away.   
  
So _that’s_ how it was. Nothing new there, Dean got that kind of attention all the time.  
  
The blond however, still seemed to be looking in _his_ direction.  
  
~  
  
“Castiel.” Balthazar said determinedly, eyes trained on the young Adonis leaning against the firetruck.  
  
Castiel didn’t reply.   
  
When the lack of response finally registered, Balthazar reluctantly ripped his eyes away from his firefighter prey, and blinked in surprise at what he saw. Castiel’s jaw was set in a tense line, eyes intent in a completely focused kind of way that he’d never seen before. Curious, he looked around in the direction of Castiel’s gaze and saw the two firemen walking with Principal Harvelle, one of them sending furtive glances back in their direction, as if he couldn’t help himself. Then as the small group disappeared into the school, he heard Castiel release a slow, shaky breath beside him.   
  
Balthazar turned back to his friend, an amused smirk on his face.  
  
“Casti- _el_.” he drawled, impressed. The firefighter was very good-looking. A different kind of gorgeous to the tall piece of yum standing by the truck, but still, definitely worth noting. Especially where his Cassy was involved. And Cassy looked involved. _Very_ involved.  
  
Castiel blinked at the sound of his name, finally snapping out of it and turning towards him, eyes glazing over in confusion. Balthazar sighed fondly, gripping Castiel’s arm and giving him a little shake to call him to attention.  
  
“Watch my kids for a minute okay?” Balthazar asked slowly, as if talking to a lost little child... which was exactly what Castiel looked like at the moment, all wide-eyed and breathless.  
  
“O-okay.” Castiel stammered, still distracted.   
  
Oh yes, _very_ involved.   
  
But Balthazar knew if he left his friend to his own devices, nothing would ever come of it, too cautious and reserved for his own damn good.   
  
Shaking his head in exasperation Balthazar walked off towards the truck. For the moment he had bigger fish to fry. Much bigger, taller, muscular fish to fry. And maybe, if things went smoothly, Balthazar might be able to do a little fishing for his Cassy as well.  
  
~  
  
Sam shifted anxiously as the blond teacher walked across the parking lot towards him, a confident swagger his approach. The man’s overall demeanor was relaxed, open, but there was something almost _predatory_ in the man’s eyes that made Sam squirm like a pinned fly.  
  
“Hello!” the blond teacher greeted, smiling pleasantly enough.  
  
“Hi.” Sam replied with an uncertain smile as the man stopped before him.   
  
“‘Probationary’?” the man said, eyeing his helmet and reading the label there. “Doesn’t that mean you’re in training?”   
  
Sam quirked an eyebrow as he registered the English accent in the other man’s drawl.  
  
“Yeah, just started a couple months ago.” he replied politely.  
  
“Oh? And how are you liking it?” the man asked, seeming genuinely curious.  
  
“It’s alright.” Sam shrugged. “Mostly false alarms so far.”   
  
The man laughed. “Yes well, I’m sure that must be a bother for you, but it’s all a bit of excitement for us.” he said, eyes twinkling in humor. Sam couldn’t help but laugh a little at that.  
  
“Balthazar Roché.” the man introduced himself, reaching out his hand, “I teach French here… Well, I _try_ to anyway.” he said, smirking at the listless teens around him. Sam found himself laughing again, beginning to relax. A little polite conversation couldn’t hurt anyone, and it might make the otherwise routine run to the school pass by a little more quickly.  
  
“Sam Winchester.” he replied, shaking the proffered hand.  
  
“Winchester? Are you related to that other fireman? I saw the name on his uniform.” Balthazar inquired.  
  
“Yeah that’s my brother. Dean.”  
  
“Ahhh, a family of firefighters, how _interesting_.” Balthazar replied. Out of reflex Sam snorted.  
  
“Yeah, interesting at _best_.” he replied dryly, and Balthazar laughed in response, catching the jest at his brother’s expense. Sam decided he kind of liked the way the corners of Balthazar’s eyes crinkled up when he laughed.  
  
“So you are the younger brother, I take it?” Balthazar said with a wry smile.  
  
“What gave me away?” Sam grinned.  
  
“Well it wasn’t the size of you, that’s for sure.” Balthazar replied with an assessing smirk, and Sam felt his ears turning pink under the gaze. Polite conversation had officially turned into flirting, and Sam suddenly found himself stammering stupidly in response. Thankfully, that was when he caught sight of Dean and Rufus in the distance, returning with the Principal.   
  
He’d almost forgotten Dean’s strange behaviour earlier, but when his brother returned Sam narrowed his eyes in observation again. Dean was still oddly quiet, holding himself a little stiffly, and kept shooting glances out of the corner of his eye at something. When Sam followed the direction of his brother’s attention he saw the dark-haired teacher from before, the man’s eyes again following Dean’s path.   
  
“Huh.” Sam grinned to himself, catching on. Dean got a lot of attention sometimes, but it wasn’t often Sam saw him respond to it this way.  
  
“Yes…” Balthazar drawled in agreement, smirking knowingly as he observed the same scene.   
  
“Tell you what, Sam,” Balthazar said, “I’ll give you Castiel’s number to pass on to your brother, if you give me yours.”  
  


~ _tbc_  



	2. Chapter 2

 

“Sorry about that, boys.” Ellen apologized as Dean rounded the truck to the driver’s seat.  
  
“No problem, Ellen. False alarms are better than the real thing, right?” Dean replied, climbing into the truck.  
  
“You said it.” she answered. Stepping up to the passenger side of the truck she fixed them both with a steely-eyed gaze they knew all too well. “You boys be careful, you hear? And send my regards to _Chief Singer_.” she smirked, always ready to mock her old friend Bobby’s official title.  
  
“Will do.” Sam grinned through the window. She turned one last maternal glare on them for good measure, before stepping away from the truck and heading back towards the school.  
  
“I swear to Christ, one day I’m gonna set fire to that Crowley guy’s stupid pink apron.” Dean muttered as Ellen walked away. Sam chuckled at that as he handed the truck keys over, but Dean didn’t laugh with him. Gripping the steering wheel tight he took a deep breath, needing a moment to clear his head. The dark-haired teacher had already left the parking lot, but he couldn’t shake the feeling of those blue eyes on him, still pressing at him like a physical weight and leaving him slightly breathless.  
  
“Are you alright? What’s with you?” his brother asked.  
  
“Nothing.” Dean replied shortly.  
  
Nothing _at all_.  
  
It wasn’t like this was the first time he’d been attracted to a guy or anything. There’d been that thing with Andy one time in High School when they’d gotten really, _really_ high. That brief, wild, thing with Nick when Sam had taken off to college. And Victor, once they’d stopped fighting long enough to work out why they seemed to want to fight all the time in the first place...  
  
“You sure?” Sam raised an eyebrow.  
  
“Yeah Sammy, I’m fine.” Dean sighed, finally starting the truck so they could leave.  
  
“ _Riiiight._ ” Sam drawled. “Cause I noticed you seemed to be distracted by something. Or should I say, some- _one_.”  
  
Dean snapped his head towards his brother at that, and Sam grinned at him knowingly. Was it _that_ obvious?  
  
“Dude. You _so_ owe me.”  
  
“…What?” Dean replied, his face crinkling up in confusion.  
  
“His name is Castiel. And I just agreed to go to dinner with one of the other teachers in exchange for his phone number.”  
  
“ _What?!_ ” Dean sputtered in disbelief.  
  
“You _so_ owe me.” Sam smirked.  
  
~  
  
“‘Morning!” Sam called out, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as he practically bounced into the living room where Dean was staring blankly at the television.  
  
Dean grunted in response as Sam flopped down next to him on the couch, then went back to sucking down the copious amounts of caffeine he needed to be anywhere near the kind of awake his brother always seemed to spring out of bed with. He supposed Sam simply slept better, and he wished his own sleep could be as untroubled, for work if anything, given that on some shifts they had to be awake and ready at a moment’s notice. But Sam wasn’t even home by the time Dean had crawled into bed after his shift last night.  
  
“What’d _you_ get up to last night?” Dean asked, still not really seeing what was on the television but too brain-dead to look away.  
  
“My dinner with Balthazar was last night.” Sam replied.  
  
Dean hissed in a quiet breath as his brain jolted awake, suddenly aware of where this topic would most likely end up and not looking forward to it.  
  
“Ah.” he replied on the exhale, taking another sip of coffee and trying to remain nonchalant.  
  
“Dean,” Sam turned to him, fixing him with wide eyes, “I made a passing comment over dinner about sometimes listening to classical music and he took me to Opera in the Park. _Opera. In. The Park._ ” Sam emphasized. “I had a _really_ good time.” his brother sighed happily, snuggling back into his seat. Dean snorted.  
  
“Yeah well, you always did have a thing for blonds.” he snarked.  
  
Sam sent him a bitch-glare from across the couch, which only served to make Dean snicker at him.  
  
“So… Did you go home with him?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. Sam rolled his eyes.  
  
“For the millionth time Dean, it was just a friendly thing.”  
  
“You also said you were ‘open-minded.’” Dean leered.  
  
“I _am_.” Sam replied. “But-- But even if I _was_ attracted to him,” his brother stammered, suddenly blushing so much that Dean had to raise an eyebrow, “I wouldn’t go home with someone on the first date!” Sam finished in rush. “I’m not like _you_ Dean.” he added, kicking Dean’s leg. Dean kicked back.  
  
“Prude.”  
  
“Slut.”  
  
“Bitch.”  
  
“Jerk.”  
  
“Ahhh I just love these mornings together.” Dean sighed mockingly. Sam rolled his eyes again, crossing his arms over his chest with a huff, but Dean could see the small smile on his brother’s face. And then Sam said,  
  
“He _did_ get a bit handsy though.”  
  
Dean snorted out a laugh.  
  
“Well shit Samantha, do you need me to go and defend your virtue now?!” he chortled.  
  
“Shut up.” Sam huffed. "Besides, it’s _your_ fault my virtue was in danger to begin with.”  
  
Dean stopped laughing at that, snapping his mouth shut with a scowl as he turned back to the television. Sam stared at him silently from across the couch, in that way he knew meant his brother was working up to say something he might not like. He tried to ignore it, in the hope his brother might let it go, but after a few more minutes it was just too unnerving.  
  
“What?” Dean grumbled, gulping down more coffee.  
  
“Have you even called him yet?”  
  
“Sam…” he warned.  
  
“Oh come on Dean, you need to start dating.”  
  
“What are you talking about? I date.” he protested indignantly.  
  
“I’m not talking about random hookups, Dean. But yeah, it’s been months since you even had one of those.” Sam replied, his brows furrowed in concern.  
  
Dean sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. Sam had a point. He’d tried picking up a few times after he and Lisa had split up, but after a year of being in a stable relationship, one night stands just didn’t have the same appeal as it used to. Dean didn’t like to admit it to himself, but he needed something more now.  
  
He just wasn’t sure if he was ready to go through all that again though. And he had a feeling this Castiel guy wouldn’t just be a one-time thing. As it was, he couldn’t get the memory of those intense blue eyes out of his head, that mess of dark hair, those ridiculously full lips… He couldn’t stop thinking about what those lips would feel like, taste like… that lean frame pressed against his own…  
  
Dean shook himself. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so powerfully attracted to someone. Guy _or_ girl. And that was only after seeing the man _once_ across a crowded parking lot for Chrissakes.  
  
“Dean, please.” Sam said softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Will you at least try? For me?” his brother pleaded. "In return for putting my virtue on the line?" he added with a small grin.  
  
Dean chuckled at that, but he could still see the concern in his brother’s eyes. Dean sighed in defeat, unable, as ever, to resist that look.  
  
“Alright Sammy, I’ll call him.”  
  
~  
  
Castiel was already well into his coffee when Balthazar entered the teacher’s lounge Monday morning, sinking down into the chair opposite him with his usual Monday morning sigh. Castiel raised his eyes from his newspaper momentarily to lift his mug in greeting.  
  
“How was your date?” he asked conversationally.  
  
“Oh _lord_.” Balthazar drawled, “The _things_ I would do to that boy.”  
  
Castiel quirked his lips in amusement. He could only imagine. Wait, no, he didn’t want to imagine.  
  
“If he wasn’t so painfully _straight_!” Balthazar lamented.  
  
“Like that’s ever stopped you before.” Castiel pointed out.  
  
“True.” Balthazar conceded with a nod of his head. “But alas! My charms failed to achieve the desired effect.” he sighed.  
  
“Well I hope you didn’t scare him _too_ much.” Castiel chuckled.  
  
“Me? Scary? Never!” Balthazar scoffed.  
  
“Balthazar, you scare me on a daily basis. And that’s even after _years_ of knowing you.” Castiel replied wryly.  
  
“Meh.” Balthazar shrugged. “He doesn’t know what he’s missing out on.”  
  
“Or how lucky he is to get away with his life.” Castiel shot back.  
  
“You wound me.” Balthazar whimpered, clutching at his chest dramatically.  
  
Grinning, Castiel went back to his paper. Balthazar seemed content to pout in silence for a few more moments, before he leaned forward and began to peer at Castiel more closely.  
  
“How about you? Anything... _interesting_ this weekend?”  
  
Castiel’s grin froze at the tone in his friend’s voice. He’d come to dread that tone, as it usually led to the other man roping him into some harebrained scheme he always ended up regretting. Like the time Balthazar begged him to pretend to be his boyfriend so the other man could get into a Swingers party... He only _just_ managed to escape being the twelfth member of some sordid orgy, but it didn’t save him from seeing more of his friend's anatomy than he’d ever wanted to.  
  
“No… nothing _interesting_ happened...” Castiel replied cautiously. Balthazar pouted again, but said nothing more. When the other man hopped up from his chair to make himself some coffee Castiel frowned down at his paper.  
  
His weekend had been rather pathetic actually. He’d spent the entire time on his couch, watching bad television and going through more than a few bottles of wine as he engaged in what could only be classified as “moping” over the memory of green eyes and freckles. The memory of _Dean_ , as Balthazar had informed him.  
  
It was frustrating, really, how easily Balthazar managed a date with Sam Winchester, while Castiel stood dumbstruck as the whole thing played out before him in the blink of an eye. It was pathetic. Hence the moping.  
  
Castiel sighed as he gathered his things for class.  
  
He was almost out the door when his phone vibrated in his hand, flashing an unknown number.  
  
“Hello?” Castiel answered uncertainly.  
  
“Um… Hi, is this Castiel Milton?” A gruff, but pleasing, voice asked.  
  
“Yes?” Castiel replied, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.  
  
“Uh… this is Dean Winchester?”  
  
Castiel’s breath caught in his throat.  
  
“Um… my brother Sam got your number from your friend Balthazar. He said I should give you a call.”  
  
Castiel’s eyes whipped over to Balthazar, and the other man raised a questioning eyebrow at him when he caught the gaze.  
  
“Uh… Yes… Hello, Dean.”  
  
A wide grin broke out across Balthazar’s face.  
  


~ _tbc_  



	3. Chapter 3

 

Castiel tried not to look as nervous as he felt when he stepped into the bar he’d agreed to meet Dean for drinks. It was a nice place, larger than the standard neighbourhood haunt as there was a restaurant area off to the side, but although it had that sort of open-spaced feeling that usually came with restaurants, it still managed to feel intimate and casual.  
  
As inviting as the place was though, Castiel still felt like he wanted to run in the other direction. He supposed he should be grateful to Balthazar, for knowing him well enough to discern his reaction to Dean and working so quickly on his behalf. But the whole thing still felt like some kind of blind date scenario that Castiel just _did not do_.   
  
He’d never dated someone he didn’t know well enough first, always preferring to feel comfortable enough with the other person before having to deal with the additional first date awkwardness. ‘Choose your battles’, his father had always said, and ‘Know your enemy’. So he always made sure to choose wisely, and to be prepared.   
  
But Castiel was in no way prepared for this. So far out of his comfort zone he was sure everyone in the bar could tell he was a fraud, standing there in the doorway with a sick feeling of nervousness in his gut that threatened to swallow him whole. But he’d chosen this. He’d chosen to come here and take a chance on a man he knew little to nothing about, other than what he’d heard from Balthazar. And even then it was one thing to know the facts than it was to know the person.  
  
And yet, while the setup was not ideal, there was still that faint hope that there might be something _there_ , some kind of _connection_ that was seriously lacking in his life of late. He was tired of being alone. He was tired of being lonely. And as much as he loathed the overly-contrived situation he now found himself in, it was a necessary step towards any kind of change in his life. And Dean was the first person in a long time that made him feel like he even _wanted_ to take that risk, his responses to the barest of interactions they’d so far had, too heady too ignore. So when he finally caught sight of the man himself sitting at the bar, Castiel took that first step forward.   
  
~  
  
“Hello, Dean.”  
  
A shiver rushed down Dean’s spine at the sound of that voice… that ridiculously sexy, smoke-deep voice he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about since their phone call, adding fuel to the fire of his few, already _searing_ , memories of the other man.  
  
He turned around to reply, but his breath hitched in his throat as his eyes met Castiel’s, completely unprepared for the assault of that blue-eyed gaze so up close and personal. And damn if that navy sweater Castiel was wearing over his khakis didn’t bring out their color even more.  
  
Dean suddenly felt ridiculously underdressed in his jeans and green button-down, sleeves scrunched up to his elbows for comfort without a second thought to how messy it looked, and for the millionth time he worried that he was _way_ out of his league. He had to swallow hard before willing his face into what he hoped was a smile.  
  
“Hi.” he replied. And when Castiel smiled back at him his eyes couldn’t help but dart down at the fullness of Castiel’s lips, and he felt himself licking his own lips before he could stop himself.  
  
Man oh _man_ what the hell had he gotten himself into?  
  
~  
  
Castiel racked his brain as he sat down at the bar and ordered a drink. Earlier that day Balthazar had offered to write down some conversation points on cue cards he could stick in his pocket to look at if he needed to, “like dating cheat sheets” Balthazar had said, but Castiel had declined, laughing it off. He wasn’t some kind of social retard after all, he was just cautious about things. But now he was beginning to wish he’d taken Balthazar up on his offer. It was already bad enough that he barely knew anything about Dean, but the man’s presence was so overwhelming he could barely think straight.   
  
“So…” he started awkwardly, “Put out any fires recently?” he asked, throwing the words out of his mouth helplessly.  
  
Dean laughed at that, his head tilting back as his eyes brightened with mirth, and it warmed Castiel enough that he began to relax a little.  
  
“No, not today.” Dean smiled. “But yesterday there was this thing across town…” Dean began, launching into a ridiculous story about a fire-hydrant, an old lady named Gertie, his brother Sam, and a three-legged terrier. By the end of it Castiel found himself grinning stupidly at the other man, the nervous tension he’d felt earlier completely gone.  
  
~   
  
Dean really liked the way Castiel was looking at him right now, the hint of humor in the crinkles around his eyes, the little smile that’d inched across those amazing lips as he’d talked. The little smile that _he_ had put there. So he told Castiel what he hoped was another funny story, and another, any damn thing he could think of, just to see that smile over and over again.  
  
Castiel offered a few stories of his own, some of them from his job teaching, but a few crazier things that involved his friend Balthazar (and some of _those_ Dean wondered if he should tell Sam about or not). The guy wasn’t as descriptive as Dean when he talked, often keeping his stories short and to the point, so Dean could tell he wasn’t really used talking about himself. But Dean didn’t really mind. He’d been worried they wouldn’t have anything in common, that he wouldn’t be smart enough for the guy or something, but to his surprise he found that what he chose to talk about didn’t really matter at all. Just the way his words seemed to fill Castiel’s spaces, and the way the Castiel _allowed_ it, really listened to him and looked at him like he was important, like he really _saw_ Dean. It kind of scared the hell out of him, but there was something in him that couldn’t get enough of it either.   
  
He’d tried to keep this a casual meeting by suggesting afternoon drinks, but when his stomach suddenly released an embarrassingly loud growl, it only seemed practical when Castiel suggested they move to the restaurant for some dinner. But then there was another little leap in his stomach at that, which had nothing to do with the practicality of it _at all_ , and maybe a lot more to do with him eventually agreeing to the idea.  
  
~  
  
Something shifted between them when they moved to the restaurant, the light mood where they’d sat beside each other at the bar bantering like friends giving way to a more quiet intimacy as they sat opposite each other at their table. Before, the words themselves didn’t really seem to matter, just the lull of comfort they’d quickly helped to create. But now Castiel sensed things were about to change. And as nervous as this should’ve made him feel, he _wanted_ it too.   
  
Dean was beautiful. Crass. loud, full of bravado… Brave, loyal, and so full of _life_ … that he made Castiel feel alive. More alive than he’d felt in years.   
  
And he wanted to be closer. Wanted to know what sparked the fire in Dean’s eyes and bask in it’s warmth until the cold and steel and ache in his bones melted away.  
  
He didn’t realise how long they were sitting there, silently contemplating each other across the table, until Dean finally spoke again.  
  
“So, how did you become a teacher?” Dean asked. And it was one of those questions that was usually thrown in with small talk, except for the fact that Dean seemed genuinely interested in knowing. Looked at him like he genuinely wanted to know _him_. And the thought sent his stomach fluttering.  
  
It was also a loaded question though. Of which he had several different ways of answering depending on the level of depth he was willing to go into. And usually, when it came to this backstory, he chose the easily digestible version. That his father had sent him to military school, in the hopes he would follow in the family’s long heritage of military tradition. But that he’d found his role-models not in his drill sergeants and their war games, but in his teachers and his books, full of vast histories on the struggles of men and their strategies for survival.  
  
But there was something about Dean that drew out the whole story, difficult in it’s details. That he simply couldn’t conform to the military’s policies on homosexuality at the time, and when his already distant father had pressed him for the truth he had disowned Castiel entirely, calling him a disgrace, unworthy of his acknowledgment. How he’d worked two jobs to put himself through his degree and how for years he could barely even look at another man for the shame that had been so deeply ingrained in him. To this day he still had trouble trusting people, which was why he was so cautious all the time. And yet, he found himself telling Dean everything, Dean’s gaze steady and unwavering and giving him an uncommon sense of security as he laid his life out on the table.   
  
Or maybe it was just liquid courage, he didn’t know. But the way Dean looked at him afterwards, the way Dean’s hand twitched closer across the table, as if wanting to touch… Castiel couldn’t regret the chance he took in telling him.  
  
~  
  
Dean’s heart was pounding in his ears, overwhelmed by how much Castiel had just told him. He knew it was kind of a big deal Castiel told him all this stuff about his life because he’d already worked out that the man didn’t talk about himself much in the first place. And that kind of made him feel proud, that Castiel chose to tell _him_ so much. And he was kind of amazed, at the kind of strength the guy had. But he was also so angry, he just wanted to find Castiel’s dick of a father and smash his face into a pulpy mess.  
  
But he knew what it was like to have a Dad who was in the military. And a Dad who was never around. And before he knew it he was telling Castiel all about his own upbringing. How his mother died in a electrical fire when he was a kid, and how the rest of them had barely managed to escape with their lives. How his father blamed himself for not knowing enough to save her, and when his dad finally pulled his shit together he left the military to train as a firefighter. And how that left him and Sammy at home alone a lot, leaving him to practically raise his brother on his own.  
  
A lot of the time Dean resented his father for it, but he also respected what his dad was doing, and it had become a Winchester family mission, trying to prevent senseless accidents like the one that had happened to their family from happening again. But it was a mission that ultimately cost his father his life as well. Sam hadn't been there at the time, but Dean would never forget the moment that building collapsed, the sickening crunch of it’s decrepit structure crumbling under the weight of fire and water, with his father still inside.  
  
He’d been living with Lisa then, and she’d helped him through the rough months after that, but the whole thing had begun to make her increasingly worried about the dangers of his job. And he agreed with her. He didn’t want her son Ben to follow in his footsteps. More importantly, he didn’t want them to ever have to suffer the kind of pain he was going through, so he took himself out of the picture, before things got too serious.  
  
And then Sam decided to leave college indefinitely and came home, wracked with guilt for having left in the first place, and inevitably signed up for the family business as well. There'd been a whole lifetime's worth of issues involved in that decision that Dean had barely begun to scrape on, before he suddenly realised how late it was getting, and was shocked into silence.  
  
He couldn't believe how much time had flown, how carried away he'd been by just _talking_. He felt like he’d never talked so much in his _life_. And he sure as hell hadn’t ever told anyone so much about himself in one sitting either. Maybe it was the whole ‘comfort of strangers’ thing. Or the alcohol thing. But he was pretty sure it was just that strange magnetic effect Castiel had on him, drawing things out of him he normally wouldn’t say, making him want to be closer, any way he could.   
  
~  
  
A comfortable silence fell between them again as they left the restaurant, and Castiel found himself smiling through it, giddy with alcohol and Dean’s presence beside him. Usually this was the part of the night they’d be going their separate ways, hopefully make some kind of arrangement to see each other again some time soon, especially after the night had gone so well. Far beyond Castiel’s hopes actually. In fact, he was already beginning to feel the ache of waiting to see Dean again.  
  
“So this is my baby.” Dean grinned as they stopped beside a monster of a muscle-car parked outside the restaurant, the lights outside glinting off the shiny black metal like a showroom displaying it’s feature piece.  
  
“Impressive.” Castiel replied, “But can it make the Kessel run in less than 12 parsecs?” he grinned, taking a chance on the joke in his good mood.  
  
“Dude. Did you just reference _The Wars?_ ” Dean gaped in awe.   
  
Castiel put on his best teacher-like frown, pretending to be as serious as he could. “I _am_ a History teacher Dean, and Star Wars _is_ a classic.” he replied.  
  
Dean’s face went blank at that, but before Castiel could work out why, Dean suddenly lurched forward, leaning in as if to kiss him. Castiel hissed in a startled breath at the sudden movement, instinctively leaning backwards, and Dean froze in mid-step, biting his lip as his eyes darted between Castiel’s shocked stare and open mouth, his expression warring between worry and want. A long moment passed as they stood there, locked in hesitation, long enough for a slight breeze to sweep down the street and toss up the air around them. But when the wind died down Castiel finally decided to throw the last of his caution into it, and closed the distance between them.  
  


~ _tbc_  



	4. Chapter 4

 

For once, Dean had a plan. And it was a good plan. The kind of plan even Sammy could appreciate.  
  
Said plan began with casual drinks, in the afternoon, in a nice, comfortable setting. Basically, a nice, non-committal scenario. That way if things didn’t click they could go their own separate ways for dinner, no harm no foul. But if things _did_ work, there was the attached restaurant, near enough to transition to without breaking any kind of flow in the conversation or whatever. Then, if dinner went well they could make plans to meet again. Hell, if things were _really_ going well and they'd reached a stage where they were comfortable enough with each other, he might even offer to give Castiel a ride home.   
  
That was normal dating procedure, right? He didn’t do it often, but he at least knew _that_ much. And he at least knew enough to work out that Castiel was the type who would require normal dating procedures. He just seemed like the kind of guy who deserved that kind of respect.  
  
So he tried (and failed) not to wonder too much about what might happen if things went really, _really_ well. If, after all the above conditions were met, he just _might_ get a goodnight kiss at Castiel’s door. Might _finally_ get to feel those plush lips against his own. Just a taste, just for a moment, just long enough to appease his many imaginings.   
  
But that was the very best case scenario. He didn’t _actually_ expect things would get that far.   
  
So Dean most certainly did _not_ expect to be kissing Castiel within an inch of his life, tangled from lips to legs against his car door, on their _very first date_. And in _public_ nonetheless. Barely two feet out of the restaurant, right under the streetlights, for everyone to see.  
  
“I’m sorry!” he blurted out, coming to his senses and pulling away. What the hell was he thinking trying to pull this on a nice, respectable kind of guy? “Shit, I’m really sorry!” he apologized again, taking a step back.  
  
Castiel didn’t move, didn’t even open his eyes, still sprawled against his car and panting for breath.  
  
“Cas…tiel?” he tried again, really starting to sweat now.   
  
The other man finally opened his eyes, focusing right on Dean’s mouth as he slowly licked his lips. And before Dean could even _think_ not to stare, Castiel had grabbed him and flipped him around, slamming him up against the Impala and crushing their mouths together again.  
  
“Take me home, Dean.” Castiel growled when they came up for air. And Dean was so damn weak in the knees by that point he nearly fell over in his rush to get in the car.  
  
This was so far off-plan it was surreal, and Dean was in such a state of shock about the turn in events that when Castiel climbed into the car after him he just sat there for a long minute, staring at the man in amazement. And what a vision Castiel made right then, staring right back at him, lips bruised, flushed all over, breath still ragged and practically vibrating with the need to jump him right then and there. Dean almost groaned at the mere effort it took to rip his eyes away to start the car.  
  
Castiel’s voice was thick and low as he gave Dean directions to his apartment, and before long the silence was so heavy with anticipation Dean had to turn on the car stereo to ease the tension. But that move quite possibly turned out to be a mistake, because the next moment Robert Plant’s voice came over his car speakers, crooning over a slow blues riff about how his baby shook him _allll_ night long. Dean began to blush furiously when he realised he’d thrown in Led Zep’s first album - the album legendary for it’s _seduction_ purposes. And when he glanced over at Castiel, the little smirk on his face showed he knew _exactly_ what that tape was for too. But while that should’ve been massively awkward, the look in Castiel’s eyes made it clear he didn’t care. That he was in fact, _very_ on board with Plant’s ideas. And Dean found he had to turn the tape off anyway before he crashed his baby.  
  
It was just his luck that when the tape ejected the radio automatically turned on, and AC-DC’s 'Shook Me All Night Long' came on. As if the message wasn’t clear enough. Dean cursed under his breath and turned the radio off altogether as Castiel let out a soft chuckle next to him. Thankfully it wasn’t much longer before Castiel announced they had arrived.  
  
But even after the blatant hints the universe had decided to send Dean’s car radio, when he stepped out onto the street he fully intended to be a gentleman. Make it clear that he hadn’t planned or expected anything like this to happen, and give Castiel one last chance to back out and call it a night. But before he could even open his mouth to speak Castiel simply took his hand, quietly leading him into his apartment block, and Dean found he physically could not form the words anymore.   
  
They climbed the stairs to the second floor in silence, Castiel holding on to his hand the entire way. It was almost as if he thought Dean might disappear, the way he wouldn’t let go, the way he kept glancing over his shoulder to see if Dean was still there, eyes flaring with pleased surprise at every connection, followed quickly by a shy heat. And everytime it happened, Dean felt a responding warmth pooling in his gut, flushing up across his cheeks, at the same time sending heat unmistakably downwards.  
  
He couldn’t let go of Castiel’s hand if he tried. He could only follow as Castiel unlocked the door and led him right into the dark of the apartment, trusting Castiel’s grip to take him where he needed to be.   
  
Even then there were no words. No offers for a grand tour or another drink or any of the other usual bullshit pleasantries that were just awkward when you knew what you were there for. Castiel just led them straight past the living room, straight past the kitchen, and straight to his bedroom, where they wordlessly brought their lips together again, drinking down each other’s quiet moans as hungry hands quickly and efficiently went to work removing each other’s clothing.  
  
And then, without any further preamble, Castiel was dropping to his knees by the bed, taking Dean into his mouth, and the sharp hiss of pleasure Dean sucked in cut through the air like a knife. This was not what he thought Castiel would be like, so direct and so very not shy about what he wanted. But it was so damn hot he couldn’t help but thread his fingers through Castiel’s hair, holding him there, a low groan on his lips urging him on.  
  
It wasn’t long before Dean found himself weak in the knees again, too weak to stand, but he couldn’t wait for Castiel to stop, to get back up on his feet and invite Dean into his bed. So instead he dropped to the floor as well, gathering Castiel into his arms and crushing their lips and bodies together again. Castiel was so hard against him, nudging wet into his hip, and when he lined his own spit-slick length up alongside it, he almost collapsed again from the sheer perfection of it.   
  
But Castiel held onto him, not letting him fall, and soon Dean was holding on just as tight, trying to touch as much of Castiel with as much of himself that he could. And then Castiel was pulling open his bedside drawer, throwing things into Dean’s hands, and soon Dean was two fingers deep, all slicked up, every press and stretch rewarded with beautiful little moans, each more needy than the last.  
  
Dean couldn’t get enough. Couldn’t stop himself. Couldn’t even wait to make it all the way onto the bed. He just threw on some protection, and threw Castiel halfway up the edge of the mattress, just high enough to be able to line himself up and _go_.  
  
When he finally slid home Castiel let out an almighty groan, and Dean froze for a second, watching as Castiel keened and arched across the edge of the bed, the soft glow filtering through the windows from the outdoor lights making him gleam in the dark like some kind of ethereal being. He didn’t know when his eyes had adjusted to the lack of light, maybe it was the first time he’d opened them in a while, but the sight of Castiel then, Castiel’s heat so velvet tight around him, it took his breath away. He wasn’t aware when his body started to move, but he soon found himself thrusting, cradling Castiel’s body against his own as they rocked together.  
  
It was nothing like he imagined. And he’d imagined this moment a lot, in a lot of different ways. He just didn’t think Castiel would abandon himself so completely into it, that he would twist and writhe and throw his head back like this divine creature, completely consumed by passion and _burning_ with it’s power, God-like. Dean suddenly felt entirely unworthy, kneeling at his feet. And even though he was buried deep inside Castiel's body it still felt like trespassing when he leaned forward to press his lips to Castiel’s skin, trailing small worshipful kisses across his chest.  
  
The room was far from silent now, Castiel gasping and groaning and grabbing fistfuls of sheets to hold himself up, using his weight to push down and meet Dean’s thrusts. But they still didn’t actually use any words. Didn’t call each other ‘baby’ or moan out base profanities about how good it fucking felt, like it was just another one-night fling. But they didn’t even call out each other’s names either, as if it was still too intimate a thing when they’d only really known each other for a couple of hours.  
  
And yet Dean understood exactly what was happening when Castiel finally raised his head off the mattress, eyes focusing on him, frantic and sharp. He nodded silently, adjusting his grip around Castiel's body more securely, and there was a responding flash of relief in the heat of Castiel’s gaze. Then Castiel was nodding back, ready to go, before he closed his eyes altogether, dropping his head back onto the mattress and completely opening himself up. Dean began thrusting harder, faster, pistoning up into Castiel’s body as he fisted Castiel’s cock, steady and sure until Castiel was crying out, coming all over himself, and Dean was coming all up inside him, a short, sharp sob ripped from his lungs and buried into Castiel’s skin.  
  
For a long time afterwards Dean clung to Castiel, face pressed into his neck, breathless and stunned. Sure, he hadn’t planned on this happening tonight, but he didn’t realise just how much he’d needed it to either. And now it felt like it was over too soon. He didn’t want to come down. He didn’t want to leave. He didn’t want to even move.  
  
But eventually Castiel began to stir, letting go of the sheets and crumpling into Dean's lap, running his fingers soothingly through Dean’s hair as he pressed soft kisses across Dean’s face. Finally Dean raised his head, meeting Castiel’s lips, with each kiss becoming more and more grounded.  
  
Finally he let go, and Castiel rummaged around the floor for his undershirt, cleaning them off and tossing the used condom away. But when Castiel turned and climbed onto the bed, Dean couldn’t stop himself from grabbing his hips and pressing a reverent kiss to the curve of Castiel’s rear, one last gesture of worship.  
  
Castiel jumped a little at that, sending him a look of surpise over his shoulder, and Dean sent him a grin from the floor, small and apologetic as he shrugged his shoulder helplessly. Castiel smiled back at him then, soft and affectionate, before he reached out, inviting Dean into his bed.   
  
Dean blinked stupidly at Castiel’s outstretched hand for a second, and then found himself reaching up to take it, his heart pounding in his ears. He didn’t usually stick around after sex. It always felt weird trying to sleep next to someone he didn’t really know. But when Castiel wrapped his arms around him, tucked him into his side under the covers, it felt a lot like coming home.  
  


~ _tbc_  



	5. Chapter 5

 

Castiel almost didn’t want to wake up the next morning, comfortable as he was, half-draped over a warm body underneath him and pleasantly sore all over. But his mind stubbornly grew more and more conscious, reminding him what had happened the night before, and with a jolt of shock his eyes flew open. Very carefully he raised his arm from where it lay across Dean’s back, and rolled away from Dean’s body.   
  
Dean didn’t wake up, but he frowned a little into the pillow at the loss of contact, curling his fingers tighter around the material and burying his face deeper, mumbling something that sounded a lot like Castiel’s name.   
  
Castiel’s heart stopped a beat. He was torn between the urge to plant kisses all over Dean’s sunlit freckles and the need to have a nervous breakdown. He opted for something in between, lifting the sheets up around Dean as he carefully slid out of bed. Dean curled around himself again but otherwise kept sleeping soundly, so Castiel threw on some clothes, and headed to the kitchen to freakout quietly over some coffee.  
  
It had all felt so right last night… The way he had let his guard down under Dean’s gaze and opened up, the way he had forgotten to be cautious and gone straight for what he wanted when Dean made a move to kiss him, the way they had made out like teenagers against Dean’s car right outside the bar, and the way they couldn’t even wait to get into his bed before they’d gone for it right on his bedroom floor…  
  
But now, in the harsh light of day, Castiel felt a little silly. More than a little silly. Like maybe he hadn’t been in his right mind last night at all. Like he’d been replaced by this creature with hands and lips that had minds of their own, spilling out traitorous words like, “Take me home Dean.”   
  
_God._  
  
He must’ve made a horrible impression. Dean must’ve thought he was some terrible floozy that took men home all the time to have wild sex all over his apartment. And that’s _so_ not who he was. More importantly, he didn’t want Dean to think that was all he wanted either. If anything, his behavior was a sign of how much _more_ he wanted from Dean. That the chemistry between them was so powerful that he’d been so drawn in, so easily. So ready to throw his inhibitions away so quickly.  
  
And oh _god_ it had been amazing. No one had ever looked at him like Dean had last night, had ever touched him that way, with such awe, and fear, and need. And the way it had made him feel, so free, almost powerful, like he could do anything - fly even - and yet at the same time he’d never felt more comfortable in his skin his whole life.   
  
He _really_ hoped this thing with Dean was just beginning.  
  
~  
  
For the first time in a long time, Dean slept so hard he didn’t wake up _once_ during the night. And when he finally started to it didn’t feel forced or hard. It felt natural, like he’d actually gotten enough proper rest for once. It felt so good, and so foreign, that it took him more than a little while to work out where he was, and why the sheets he’d buried his nose in smelled so damn awesome.   
  
Castiel. He'd slept in Castiel’s bed. After sleeping with Castiel. And hot _damn_ had it been amazing. Last night had to be, hands down, some of the best sex of his life. And he really did not expect that from what he’d thought to be a shy, reserved History teacher.  
  
Unless Castiel did this kind of thing all the time.  
  
The guy _was_ friends with Balthazar after all. Maybe Castiel wasn’t like what he thought he was. And maybe last night wasn’t what he thought it was.  
  
Dean reluctantly let go of the sheets, sitting up and frowning in doubt. As the sheets fell away to pool at his waist, they took Castiel’s scent with them, and he finally registered the smell of coffee wafting through the air. Dean sighed, his eyes sweeping over the empty bed one last time. He supposed it was time to face the music.  
  
He took his time getting dressed, taking the chance to look around Castiel’s apartment now that he could see it. Sam once told him that you could tell a lot about a person from the way they set up a place, from the furniture they owned and the way they decorated. Castiel’s furniture was all very sturdy, solid, dark and wood-based. Everything was obviously functional, but also looked… kinda classy. And that was exactly what he would’ve expected from Castiel. There weren’t a lot of photographs around, which made sense from what Castiel had told him about his life, but there were a few pieces of art here and there, well-placed and well-chosen. A Chinese scroll. A mounted blade. The bookshelves were stacked full and the desk wasn’t just a computer desk, but a full-on writing desk. And yet, while everything in the apartment was dark and heavy, it didn’t seem that way at all. There was just the right amount of light coming in through the windows, just the right amount of organized clutter to make the place seem warm, and comfortable. Homey. And again, it was all just what he thought Castiel would be.  
  
So what was last night? There was nothing here that indicated Castiel was some kind of player. And Dean had been to enough places like that to know. Hell, his _own_ place looked like that before Lisa. Which was why he always went to _her_ place.  
  
Maybe that’s what was going on here. Maybe Castiel wasn’t the type that usually took people home, but went to _other_ people’s places, so he could leave whenever he wanted. The kind of person who just scratched the itch when he needed and then went back to his completely separate life.  
  
Dean scrubbed a hand over his face, nervousness and dread pooling in his gut with each step closer to the kitchen, uncertain thoughts spinning over and over in his head. And then finally he rounded the corner, and there stood Castiel, bathed in morning light, wearing an old t-shirt and track pants, leaning over the counter reading with a small frown on his face, and looking so goddamn gorgeous it took Dean’s breath away.  
  
He didn’t know how long he stood there in the doorway, admiring the view, but the longer he stood there, the more he began to think he wouldn’t mind waking up every morning to a view like this.  
  
That is, if Castiel didn’t mind him lurking in the shadows and watching him like some kind of creeper.   
  
Fuck.   
  
Dean finally cleared his throat, letting the other man know he was there.   
  
He _really_ hoped this thing with Castiel wasn’t over yet.  
  
~  
  
Castiel didn’t know how long Dean had been standing there, but it could’ve been ages considering how lost in thought he had been.  
  
He’d been looking through the information book his old cadet Major from military school had sent him about the private school he was now running. Apparently their History teacher was considering moving on and Raphael had sent him the book to look over, in case he might be interested in taking the position. Castiel was quite happy where he was, but he had to admit it was a good opportunity. It was more pay for one thing. But with the kind of program they ran at St. Michael's, Castiel would be able to expand his course material to include Ancient Greek History, European History, a few Eastern Histories... much more on top of the usual focus on recent American history.  
  
The only problem was that the school was in a different State.  
  
Well, no, that wasn’t the problem. Not until last night anyway.  
  
The problem was, that until last night, he had seriously been considering taking the job. And now, in the span of _one_ night, he was having _doubts_.   
  
And how absurd was that? That he was already willing to arrange his entire life around Dean, after just one night? For all he knew Dean wasn’t even interested in seeing him again.   
  
But if Dean _was_ , would it be worth passing up this opportunity to be with him?  
  
He almost jumped out of his skin when Dean cleared his throat in the silence of the room, but when he looked up and saw Dean there, hovering in the doorway, uncertain and beautiful, every fiber of his being answered _‘Yes’_.  
  
~  
  
“Good morning.” Dean murmured, smirking at the adorable little jump of surprise Castiel had made when he’d realised Dean was there.   
  
Castiel blinked at him owlishly for a few seconds before he cleared his throat and replied.   
  
“Good morning.”  
  
“Interesting reading?” Dean inquired, tilting his head at the book on the counter as he stepped into the room.  
  
“No.” Castiel replied, quickly flipping the book closed and sliding it away.  
  
“Okay.” Dean slowed his steps to a stop, frowning a little at Castiel’s reaction. The man had been pretty engrossed in thought before, but if he didn’t want to share, it was none of Dean’s business.   
  
But unfortunately, that brief, awkward interchange pretty much brought conversation to a standstill. It had taken a while for them to get comfortable last night, but once they had, things had gone pretty smoothly. And now it was like they were back at ground zero. Like somehow when the night reset to morning, they had reset to where they’d started as well.  
  
Dean chewed on his lip, that feeling of dread returning as the silence thickened between them. Castiel kept staring him, with that stare like he was looking right into Dean’s soul, and Dean began to squirm, feeling like he was being assessed somehow, and starting to sense he was coming up short.   
  
“I’m sorry.” Castiel blurted suddenly, “This is--uh…“ he stammered, flustered, “I don’t usually do this.” he finished in a rush.  
  
And there it was.  
  
It stung a little. No, hell, it stung a lot. But he already had a feeling this was the way it was gonna go. It’d been an amazing night, but that’s all it was. He should’ve considered himself lucky enough to be invited to stay the whole night through, but clearly it was time to go now.  
  
“Okay sure, I get it.” Dean mustered a small smile. “I’ll just get out of your hair then.” he said, turning to leave.  
  
Castiel was too good for him anyway  
  
~  
  
Dean was leaving.   
  
Dean was _leaving_.  
  
And Castiel’s heart sank with every step Dean took towards the door.   
  
As good as it had been, it was just a one time thing for Dean.  
  
For all he knew, Dean had amazing nights like that all the time.  
  
But dammit, Castiel _didn’t_. So if this was going to be the last time he saw Dean anyway, what did he have to lose?   
  
And then suddenly Castiel was hearing Balthazar’s voice in his head, yelling, “Go after him you bloody idiot!”  
  
So he did.   
  
“Dean wait!” Castiel called out, rushing after him. Dean stopped, just as he opened the door, and Castiel slammed into it, shutting it behind his back. When he looked up into Dean eyes he was surprised to see a glimmer of hurt in them, a flash of disappointment there before it was quickly pushed down, and suddenly their exchange in the kitchen replayed in his mind under a totally different light.  
  
“I’m sorry Dean! When I said I don’t usually do this, I meant I don’t usually bring people home on a first date. I didn’t mean for you to leave.” Castiel explained, feeling like a total idiot.  
  
Dean just blinked at him, silent for a long moment, before the corner of his mouth twitched up into the beginnings of a smile. “ _First_ date?” Dean repeated, a hint of hope in his voice at the unspoken implication. Castiel grinned, cupping Dean’s face in his hands and leaning up to kiss him, slow and soft.  
  
“Stay.” he murmured when they pulled apart, punctuating the request with another soft kiss. “Stay as long as you like.” he grinned, kissing Dean again. “I’ll make pancakes.”  
  
“Pancakes.” Dean echoed, a look of utter disbelief on his face. “How are you even real?” Dean breathed, before pushing him against the door, kissing him long and deep until he was breathless and hard, and pancakes were the last thing on either of their minds.  
  
Maybe after.  
  


~ _tbc_  



	6. Chapter 6

 

Spring turned to Summer, the school year ended, the months _flew_ by, but Castiel barely even noticed, so wrapped up was he in the whirlwind of this thing with Dean. Dean who staggered into his bed in the early hours of morning, too tired to do anything but pass out after his shift, but just wanting to be near him anyway. Dean who insisted Castiel cook for him, but then refused to eat unless Castiel handfed him, sitting on the couch watching Star Wars movies. Dean who had been a nervous wreck about him meeting Sam, and then pouted jealously like a left-out child when he and Sam got along famously. Dean who was at his apartment so much he already had drawers full of his own things in Castiel’s dresser, when Castiel’s past relationships had only gotten to the spare toothbrush stage in the same amount of time. Dean, who Castiel watched over as he slept late into the morning, and then spent the rest of the day making love to until hunger or work prompted them from the bedroom, and the cycle repeated itself over again.  
  
Today was no different. They’d spent most of the morning (afternoon) in bed having lazy morning sex (because it’s still morning if you’ve just woken up), until Dean’s stomach inevitably began to growl for food. Then Dean had pulled him into the shower, insisting they clean up and spend some time outdoors for once, so Castiel could try what Dean insisted was “The best ice-cream in the world, _ever_.”   
  
“I’ve got a bad feeling about this!” Castiel had groaned at first, reluctant to be dragged out of the safe little lovenest that was his bed. But as the Star Wars quote left his lips he couldn't help but chuckle a little at Dean's enthusiasm. Quite frankly, Castiel didn’t think _any_ ice cream could compare to a whole day in bed with Dean (unless, of course, the ice cream was _on_ Dean), but in the three short months they’d been together, he’d already learned he could deny Dean nothing.   
  
And Castiel had to admit, it was a refreshing change. It was a beautiful, warm, Summer day outside, and as they walked by the water, ice cream cones in hand, Castiel found he didn’t mind the noise and press of children and families around for once, enjoying the vacation atmosphere. And even though it was highly likely some of his students might be around, he wasn’t even worried about the repercussions of being seen with another man at all. When Dean was with him, he could handle anything, and nothing else mattered.  
  
Castiel was _burning_. _Falling_. So very quickly that he knew what it must be like, to be a comet plunging to the earth. It was almost embarrassing really, how fast everything was happening, but he found he simply couldn’t give a damn. Not when Dean looked at him the way he did, smiled at him the way he did, laughed and made him laugh every time they were together, with such ease it felt like they’d known each other years instead of months.  
  
And yet, he was still aware that this had to be some kind of insanely good honeymoon period or something, because there was still so much they were discovering about each other - Such as whether they preferred Battlestar Galactica or Firefly - And there was no other way to explain how he could still find Dean so adorable when he was being so damn infuriating!  
  
“It figures you’d be a Battlestar guy.” Dean muttered, shaking his head in disgust. “You know the original series was just a way to ride on the success of Star Wars, right? I mean _come on_. The ships, the effects, the whole look was similar! And Apollo and Starbuck were _totally_ cheap knock-offs of Luke and Han.”  
  
“That may be true, but in the remake their counterparts are far more dimensional. And that’s beside the fact they made Starbuck a woman.” Castiel retaliated.  
  
“Waitaminute.” Dean said, stopping in his tracks, “So if Sam and I remind you of Luke and Han, and therefore Apollo and Starbuck… Are you implying that I’m a woman?”  
  
Castiel almost choked on the last bit of his ice cream. “Well you _do_ have that thing for women’s underwear.” he recovered quickly, swallowing it down with a smirk.  
  
“ _Cas!_ ” Dean hissed, blushing as he looked around to see if anyone heard. Castiel continued his argument, unconcerned.  
  
“I’m just saying it’s not completely unreasonable that they decided to continue with Battlestar instead of Firefly. Besides the characters, the themes the show explored were extremely layered and complex as well.”  
  
“I’ll layer… your face.” Dean mumbled, lacking any kind of counterargument. Castiel chuckled.  
  
“Just be thankful I watch science fiction at all. Balthazar refuses to watch anything with the word ‘Star’ in the title.”  
  
“Ha!” Dean exclaimed, grinning wide, “That makes him a Firefly man by default!”  
  
“It does not!” Castiel scoffed.  
  
“By the way, how come he never called Sam back?” Dean asked, the grin on his face replaced by concerned curiosity as quickly as the topic of conversation changed.   
  
Castiel stopped in surprise. Balthazar hadn’t mentioned Sam since that dinner they’d had months ago, and from the way Balthazar had told it, Sam hadn’t been all that interested. But now he kind of got the feeling this was something Sam might’ve discussed with Dean quite recently, for Dean to bring it up now. Did he miss something? He might’ve, considering how caught up he’d been in this new thing with Dean. He’d barely had the chance to talk to Balthazar lately, so there was no telling what his friend might’ve gotten up to recently.  
  
“It’s cool, Cas.” Dean interrupted his thoughts. “From what you’ve told me, I kinda figured he wasn’t really a second date kind of guy.”  
  
Castiel barked out a laugh at that. It was too true. Yet he still couldn’t help feeling like something was amiss. He didn’t have the chance to pinpoint it though, as in the next moment Dean was pulling him into his arms, nuzzling into his neck and turning his brain into goo.  
  
“So…” Dean murmured into his ear, “If I’m Han, you know that totally makes you Leia, right?”  
  
Castiel smirked. “Is this an attempt to get me in a gold bikini?”  
  
“Would you?!” Dean drew back in surprise, leering at him excitedly   
  
“Certainly not.” Castiel protested, smacking him on the arm. “I don’t have the chest for it.” he grinned.  
  
“But you sure have the hips for it.” Dean murmured, sliding his hands under the hem of his shirt and gripping his hips, pulling him in close to nuzzle his neck again. Castiel moaned, his eyes fluttering closed as he clutched at Dean’s shoulders, his knees turning to jelly. And then he suddenly remembered they were in public and his eyes snapped open again.  
  
“Stop that.” he hissed, disentangling himself from Dean’s grip with another smack on the arm. “Nerf-herder.” he chastened softly, before kissing Dean on the cheek.  
  
Dean grinned, leaning in again to steal a quick kiss from his lips, and Castiel couldn’t help the smile that crept across his face after that.  
  
“You know I love Firefly just as much too, right?” he conceded. Dean eyed him softly.  
  
“You know I l--“  
  
“Dean?” a voice called from behind his shoulder. Dean blinked in confusion at the interruption, surprise crossing his face when looked up, followed by several other emotions that flickered across his face too fast for Castiel to read.  
  
“Lisa?!”  
  
~   
  
Dean was painfully silent after running into Ben and Lisa. For hours afterwards he was distracted, broody, would barely even look at Castiel, let alone touch him, and Castiel felt the lack of contact like a physical ache. He hadn’t realized just how much Dean touched him all the time now, and how easily he’d gotten used to it, until it suddenly stopped.   
  
He didn’t know what to do. Not even the promise of homemade burgers cheered Dean up. So he tried to just be patient, be _there_ , and give Dean time to sort out whatever he needed to. Seeing his ex and the kid that had practically been a son to him couldn’t have been easy for Dean. It was obvious from their brief meeting that Dean still cared for them a great deal.  
  
He would’ve expected the whole encounter to be a lot more awkward than it was, but surprisingly it wasn’t. Lisa seemed like a kind woman, and Ben clearly idolized Dean, so the whole exchange felt like they’d just run into some of Dean’s old friends. And from what Dean had told him, they genuinely _were_ still friends, as they’d parted amicably. Lisa had been good to Dean, especially during the time after Dean’s father had died, before Sam had come back from college and Dean had really needed someone to help him through it. It was Dean’s job that was the problem. Lisa had always wanted a good role-model for her son, and Dean _had_ been, until she realised just how dangerous his job really was. And having just lost another parent to a fire, Dean didn’t want them to go through the kind of loss he was going through someday.  
  
Castiel understood it had been a difficult situation, but he couldn’t help but feel that if it’d been _him_ , he would’ve fought for Dean. Danger be damned. Tragedy could strike at any time, in any million different ways, and to Castiel it only meant he wanted to spend every moment with Dean that he could. And he could handle the worry and the fear over whether Dean would survive every fire, because he was raised to be strong. His father was military, and he’d survived military school, so he’d been bred pretty tough to begin with. And the parts of him that still faltered were bolstered by the fact that it was _him_ Dean would be coming home to after every one of those fires. So if he couldn’t be strong for himself, he would be for Dean.  
  
But then again, Castiel didn’t have a child to think of, so it wasn’t really fair to compare himself against Lisa’s priorities. He’d never really thought about having children of his own before, but after seeing how good Dean had been with Ben, he’d had a moment, a twinge of serious consideration. He could see how alluring the prospect of having a family with Dean could be, so he could appreciate just how hard it must’ve been to give it up. And even though Dean didn’t speak about Lisa like they had been _in_ love, there was clearly still enough love there to make the separation painful.  
  
And seeing Dean now, so obviously upset after seeing them again, Castiel wished he could do more than offer a quiet meal of cheeseburgers on his couch. Wished he could just wrap Dean up in his arms and hold him until the hurt passed, remind him that he wasn’t alone and that he still had people in his life that cared for him, a great deal. But Dean pulled away every time he tried to touch him, shook his head every time Castiel asked him if he wanted to talk about it, leaving him feeling frustrated on top of his concern, helpless, and shut out.  
  
So after a very quiet dinner, Castiel escaped to the kitchen to clean up their dishes. He was more than a little surprised when Dean followed him, automatically falling into their routine where Dean dried the dishes afterwards so Castiel could put them away. But while this routine was usually filled with pleasant banter and laughter, or even companionable silence, tonight Dean was miles away. He was so distracted he almost walked right into Castiel more than once, until he actually _did_ , knocking the holder full of cutlery right out of Castiel’s hand.   
  
Reflexively Castiel reached out, trying to grab onto it before it fell, but the cutlery was already spilling out of it mid-air, and as a result Castiel ended up grabbing the wrong end of a knife, skewering himself and losing a large chunk of flesh out of his finger.  
  
Castiel yelped and cursed in pain as blood dripped everywhere, and Dean finally snapped out of it, cursing as well as he grabbed Castiel’s arm and held it under the sink.  
  
“Shit Cas, I’m so sorry!” Dean apologised as he inspected the damage.  
  
“It’s okay Dean.” Castiel replied, hissing in pain.  
  
“No it’s not.” Dean frowned. “Do you have a first aid kit somewhere?”  
  
“In the laundry.” he directed.  
  
“Okay, don’t move.” Dean instructed before rushing off to get the kit.   
  
When Dean returned, he handled Castiel so gently and so carefully as he cleaned and bandaged the wound, that even though Castiel was in pain, his heart couldn’t help but leap a little at the fact that Dean was touching him again. He couldn’t take his eyes off Dean’s face as Dean concentrated, so close he could practically count the freckles smattered across Dean’s nose. So close he began to hold his breath, for fear that Dean might skitter away from him again.  
  
“All done.” Dean suddenly announced, looking up to find himself inches away from Castiel’s face. Dean blinked, looking at Castiel as if it was the first time he was really seeing him in hours, and Castiel meant to say ‘Thank You’, he really did, but what came out was,  
  
“I love you.”  
  
Dean froze, his breath hitching in his throat, stunned.   
  
Castiel’s eyes went wide as well, realizing what he’d just said.  
  
“What?” Dean exhaled, barely a whisper.  
  
Castiel opened his mouth, halfway to apologizing and taking it back, but then he realised he couldn’t. He couldn’t take it back like it was a mistake or a lie, because it was the truth.   
  
Smiling weakly, he reached up to cup Dean’s cheek with his good hand, stroking his thumb soothingly across the skin there as he waited for his unexpected admission to sink in.  
  
But the stunned look never left Dean’s face. After a long moment, he finally swallowed, hard, then reached up to pull Castiel’s hand away.  
  
“I can’t do this again.”  
  
It was Castiel’s turn to be stunned now, completely unprepared for the words that had come out of Dean’s mouth, and the heavy finality that had come with them.  
  
“What?” Castiel echoed, his heart dropping through his stomach as all the air flew out of his chest.  
  
“I’m sorry.” Dean choked out as he swept past, leaving the room, and Castiel barely understood what was happening until he heard the front door slam.   
  
By the time he pulled himself together, rushing out the door, Dean was already at the bottom of the stairs, charging out of the building.  
  
“Dean!” he yelled as he ran down the stairs after him. “Please, wait!” he practically sobbed, his heart pounding in his ears as he gasped for breath that just wouldn’t come.   
  
But it was too late. By the time he made it out the entrance he could already hear the familiar squeak of the Impala door from down the street, the slam of it closing shut. And by the time he got to where he knew the car was parked, Dean was already driving away.   
  
“Dean!” he called out one more time, but it came out as a whimper for lack of air. And all he could do was stand there, watching helplessly from the middle of the street as the roar of the Impala faded into nothing, and all he could hear were his own hitching gasps as disbelieving tears streamed down his face.  
  
He’d forgotten that some comets crash, eventually.  
  


~ _tbc_  



	7. Chapter 7

 

They say there are five stages of grief. Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and finally, Acceptance. And though Dean hadn’t actually died, the manner of his leaving was so abrupt, and so final, that in the months afterwards, Castiel grieved his loss almost as strongly as if Dean _had_ died.   
  
Or maybe it was Castiel that died, when Dean ripped out his heart and left behind an empty shell of a man, cold and alone, with barely a pulse of life left in him.  
  
At first Castiel hadn’t understood what was happening. He was almost sure whatever it was would’ve blown over and Dean would’ve returned his calls the next day, come crawling back to him, all apologies, so they could talk things out. (Denial).   
  
But Dean didn’t. And then Castiel had gotten so angry that Dean wasn’t answering his calls he’d smashed his phone against a wall. (Anger). The shards of it were probably still lying on the ground where they’d landed, along with whatever other dust and mess had collected since he’d stopped bothering to clean his apartment. Or doing other basic things like eating properly, or even bathing every day.  
  
When he’d gotten a new phone he promised he wouldn’t call Dean anymore, just as long as Dean would call him back. (Bargaining). But he was still waiting on that. In fact, he’d made a nice nest of waiting on his couch, covered with quilts and pillows and remote controls, and everything else he needed for survival nearby, just so he didn’t have to move anywhere or do anything, but wait. And every day the Summer sun mocked him through the blinds of his darkened apartment, as he tried to ignore the Depression he was so obviously wallowing in, struggling to find some form of ‘Acceptance’ that didn’t make him feel like a crazy person. (Cycle and repeat).  
  
This was the state in which Balthazar found him, after one strangely philosophical and possibly insane call for help.  
  
“It’s my karma. No, it’s _‘The Secret.’_ It’s the ‘law of attraction’ sending me what I want but in the most twisted possible way, reminding me that I can’t have it.” Castiel ranted, air quotes and all, still in his bizarrely detached, philosophical state, as he produced glossy paper from the depths of his nest and handed it over to his friend.  
  
“Good lord.” Balthazar remarked, his eyes going wide as he took in the picture the calendar flopped open to – Dean in his fireman’s uniform - jacket, pants, helmet and all - but sans shirt, holding a hose in a suggestive manner, and sending a cheeky grin right at the camera.  
  
“Good lord.” he breathed softly, as he flipped the page and saw Sam, topless altogether save for his pants’ suspenders, his chiselled upper body covered in oil and streaked with some kind of dirt or ash, the small smile on his face awkward and self-conscious and incredibly endearing.  
  
“Good lord!” Balthazar yelped, flipping the page and coming across the month with a leering Rufus on top of it, and quickly slammed the fund-raising calendar shut. Castiel chuckled a little at the appalled look on Balthazar’s face, before he lost the energy to continue and let out a bone-weary sigh.  
  
“I’d pre-ordered it as a favor to Sam when…” he trailed off. When he and Dean were together. It was still hard to say. Still hard to talk about them in the past tense. Not when he still felt the same way, just as strongly as he did before. And talking about them in the past tense meant _really_ accepting how over they were, and he just wasn’t ready for that yet.   
  
“I’d totally forgotten about it until it arrived.” Castiel frowned, eyeing the calendar in Balthazar’s hands.  
  
Balthazar sighed. “I don’t understand Cassy. I mean, I _get_ that he looks even better _out_ of that fireman’s uniform than he already does _in_ it… But what did you two even _talk_ about?”  
  
“Whether Kirk or Picard was a better captain of The Enterprise?” Castiel shrugged. “Anything. Everything. Nothing. The conversation itself wasn’t important.”  
  
“I’ll _bet_ it wasn’t.” Balthazar smirked. Castiel smacked him with his free hand, earning an unrepentant snigger from his friend before Balthazar stopped to sigh overdramatically. “How you managed to get a Winchester in bed on the first date and _I_ couldn’t is _beyond_ me!” he bemoaned, shaking his head woefully as he opened the calendar to Sam’s month again. Castiel almost smacked him again, but stopped when he saw the look on Balthazar’s face, and realised his friend wasn’t entirely joking around.  
  
“You really liked him didn’t you?” Castiel ventured, and something flickered in Balthazar’s eyes. Something he hadn’t seen since the old Drama teacher Gabriel had taken off to India.   
  
Balthazar didn’t answer, his eyes fixed on the Calendar.  
  
“Why didn’t you ever try to see him again? Castiel asked softly.  
  
“And have to deal with this kind of drama?” Balthazar snorted. Castiel flinched.  
  
“I’m sorry Cassy, that was cruel of me.” Balthazar apologised, immediately realizing his insensitivity.  
  
“Cruel, but true.” Castiel replied, resigned. “I should’ve known better.” he muttered. “I _do_ know better. I _never_ let myself get so involved so fast! What exactly did I _think_ would happen?!” he chastised himself angrily.  
  
“Oh Cassy.” Balthazar sighed sympathetically, wrapping an arm around him and squeezing him tight.   
  
Castiel sighed, his gaze turning back to the Calendar, and before he knew it, he was reaching out, flipping back to Dean’s picture, the Calendar easily finding the place after being bent open and held on that month for so long.  
  
“Yes, well,” Balthazar cleared his throat, “I think I’ll just… _confiscate_ this then.” he said, tucking the Calender into the side of the couch away from Castiel. “For both of our benefits, eh?” he added with a wink, which made Castiel chuckle a little again.  
  
“Thank you Balthazar.” Castiel sighed, leaning onto his friend’s shoulder. Balthazar pressed a kiss into his hair, before resting his cheek on top of Castiel’s head.   
  
Castiel burrowed into his friend’s side, the warmth of the contact a comforting balm. It just got harder as the years passed, as he got older, to recover from this kind of disappointment. He couldn’t spring back from heartbreak like he used to when he was younger. And maybe that’s why he’d become more cautious over the years, took fewer chances. Maybe he had been foolish with Dean, to let himself fall so deep, so fast. But it had just seemed so _right_ at the time.  
  
“I miss him so much.” Castiel whispered, trying to blink back tears and failing miserably.   
  
“I know Cassy, I know. Just let it out.” Balthazar crooned, squeezing him tighter. “Ah Cassy, you feel so much, so strongly, it’s no wonder you have a stick up your ass all the time, trying to hold it all in.”   
  
Castiel barked out a laugh at that, and then couldn’t stop, laughing and crying at the same time as Balthazar chuckled beside him. And then Balthazar loosened his hold, pulling back to grin at Castiel, and Castiel smiled back at him, the first genuine smile he’d been able to muster in a long time.  
  
“There you are.” Balthazar beamed proudly, wiping the tears from Castiel’s cheeks. “See Cassy? Things would be so much simpler if you’d just love me the way I love you.”  
  
Castiel snorted, smacking Balthazar on the arm yet again as his friend laughed, tucking him into his side once more.  
  
“Don’t worry love, I’ve got a few more weapons hidden away in my arsenal. Things will get better soon.”  
  
~  
  
Castiel went to sleep a little easier that night. Balthazar had forced him to shower and shave and put on some clean clothes, and when he’d emerged from the bathroom there were dvds, dinner, and a couple bottles of wine waiting for him. Balthazar had even tidied up his apartment a little, and made some sense of functional order to his nest of blankets on the couch in preparation for their movie marathon. He’d had a minor moment of panic though, when he saw one of the movies was titled ‘Stardust’, but when he realised the film wasn’t actually science-fiction, the panic subsided. And he tactfully chose not to raise the point that Balthazar had managed to break his own rule about watching movies with the word ‘Star’ in the title after all.  
  
As enjoyable as the film was though, the story’s love triangle was still a little too close to his own emotions to deal with, and he found himself drinking more than his fair share of the wine. It was that more than anything which lulled him to sleep, right when the heroine was confessing her love to the hero. Who had been turned into a mouse. For some reason. Castiel was shaky on the details by that stage. And he never found out how it ended, because the next thing he knew his alarm clock was going off, and there was a loud banging on his door, forcing him from his wine-induced sleep. And he must’ve still been drunk when he finally sat up and opened his eyes, because not only did the room sway around him, but he could barely see through the haze of his dimly lit apartment.  
  
And then his front door crashed open, splinters flying through the air from where the lock was kicked in, and there was a firefighter in his apartment, calling out his name in a voice that sounded a lot like Dean’s.  
  
Castiel blinked at the apparition, beginning to wonder if he was having some kind of strange, alcohol-induced, calender-inspired nightmare, but when the apparition rushed over and grabbed him by the shoulders, it felt far too real to be a dream.  
  
“Cas! Cas, you okay?!” Dean yelled through his mask.  
  
“Dean? What are you doing here? What’s happening?” Cas had to yell in return, the fire alarm he had thought was his alarm clock still blaring in his ears.  
  
“C’mon Cas, we need to get you out of here.” Dean growled, yanking him off the couch and pulling him towards the door. “Put this over your face! And stay low!” Dean ordered, yanking his trenchcoat off the hook by the door and thrusting it into his hands. Castiel pressed the coat to his face obediently, and when Dean pulled him out into the hallway he was grateful for the barrier the material provided, as the smoke was much thicker there. It began to sting his eyes as well, forcing him to squint, so he tried to stay as low and as close as possible as Dean led the way out.   
  
Not that Dean ever let go of his arm. In fact, even when they finally made it outside the building Dean still didn’t let go. He just dragged him straight past the firetrucks, where Sam and Rufus were trying to deal with some kind of cannister that was still spewing forth smoke - the apparent cause of alarm - and straight past the crowd of his pyjama and robe-clad neighbors, to the ambulance on site.  
  
“Check him over!” Dean snarled at one of the Paramedics. But when one of them rushed over to look at him, Dean still didn’t leave, taking off his mask to check him over with his own eyes as well.   
  
Castiel found himself looking at anything _but_ the other man, his emotions quickly becoming overwhelming now that everything was beginning to sink in.  
  
“You’re fine, just breathe on this for about 15 minutes.” the paramedic said, pressing an oxygen mask to his mouth.   
  
Castiel nodded, still trying to avoid meeting Dean’s eyes, though he could sense less tension in the way Dean hovered over him now that he was given the all clear. He probably should’ve been relieved as well, but he was still trying to choose between the need to cry and the desire to scream. Scream and rail and demand answers for why Dean had left him, breaking his heart with barely any explanation at all.  
  
Trying to breathe properly became exceptionally difficult. Even with the help of an oxygen mask. And he was so consumed by his conflicting desires that it took him a while to realise just what he was seeing.   
  
It confused him at first, as he would’ve thought Balthazar had gone home when he’d fallen asleep, as his friend usually did when Castiel nodded off during a movie. But for some reason Balthazar was still here, and still sitting in his car where it was parked some distance down the street.   
  
And then Castiel put two and two together, and huffed a more than exasperated sigh.  
  
“Is that _Balthazar?_ ” Dean asked, having followed Castiel’s attention closely.  
  
“I’m so sorry about this.” Castiel murmured, glancing guiltily at the smoke bomb, which had been abandoned on a sidewalk, sputtering out its last few gasps of smoke. He knew Balthazar had only meant to help, in his own twisted way, but the false alarm was ultimately an unfair use of the town’s emergency services.  
  
“Son of a _bitch_.” Dean cursed, before stalking towards the car.  
  
“Dean, wait!” Castiel yelled after him, though the effort of it made him feel woozy. Dean whirled around.   
  
“Stay there.” he growled. “You!” he pointed at one of the paramedics, “Make sure he doesn’t move from there.”  
  
The medic nodded, murmuring something about needing to keep his oxygen mask on for a bit longer. Castiel clenched his fists in frustration, unable to do anything but hope Dean wouldn’t be too hard on his friend.  
  
~  
  
“Dean!” Balthazar smiled grimly as he stepped out of his car. “And Sam!” he added, seeing the younger Winchester chasing after his brother. “This should be interesting.” he muttered under his breath.   
  
“What the _hell_ were you thinking?!” Dean snarled at him, grabbing him by the collar and slamming him up against the car. Typical caveman reaction, but he hadn't expected anything less.   
  
“Dean!” Sam yelled, rushing forward to pull at his brother’s grip, but with little success.  
  
“Well if I’d known this was what it took to get us all together again, I would’ve done this _ages_ ago.” Balthazar smirked, full of mock innocence.   
  
“This was _you?_ ” Sam breathed, suddenly going lax in shock at his admission. But then Dean was slamming him against the car again.  
  
“He could’ve suffocated.” Dean growled angrily.  
  
“He was _fine_.” Balthazar replied, unconcerned.  
  
“His blood was already thinned out with alcohol, and if he didn’t wake up, he could’ve died!” Dean yelled. But there was an edge of panic to his voice, underneath the anger, and Balthazar raised an eyebrow when he caught it.   
  
So the neanderthal cared after all.  
  
“Good thing our emergency services are so efficient then.” he grinned. Dean’s eyes flared dangerously again, but thankfully Sam chose that moment to intervene on his behalf once more.  
  
“Dean, come on. Please.” Sam cut in. Dean’s eyes narrowed, but he finally loosened his grip.  
  
“If you _ever_ put him in danger again, I will _end_ you.” Dean gritted out, all menacing-like.  
  
“Uh, sorry, _what_ right do you have to be threatening me again?” he shot back, straightening his clothes with a huff. “If I remember correctly, _you_ were the one that hurt him in the first place!”  
  
Dean’s eyes flashed with anger at the low blow, but Balthazar had hit the intended mark, effectively silencing the firefighter.  
  
But there was still Sam. And _God_ he was still gorgeous, even with all that righteous disappointment on his face.  
  
“Balthazar, what if there had been a real fire somewhere else?” the younger Winchester sighed. And Sam had a point there. Just not one he was willing to concede.  
  
“You boys must have me confused with someone who cares.” he sighed condescendingly. “You know, like the one in the dirty trenchcoat over there, _who’s in love with you_.” he added, glaring at Dean.  
  
Dean pursed his lips as that hit home, turning his glare at the ground as those words sunk in, and then without another word he turned around, and stalked off.   
  
Good. Maybe now the neaderthal would man up, and actually talk to Castiel.   
  
Except now that left him alone with Sam. Gorgeous, disappointed, Sam.  
  
“So… Sam…“ he fished awkwardly, attempting to ease his way into some kind of conversation.   
  
Sam raised an unimpressed eyebrow.   
  
Balthazar sighed internally, knowing there was probably nothing he could say that would win his way back into Sam’s good graces at this point.   
  
So he just went with what he _really_ wanted to say.  
  
“What time do you get off?”  
  
Sam gaped.   
  
“... _Now?_ ” he exploded. “ _Now_ you ask me out again?” Sam yelled, turning an impressive shade of red. But Balthazar couldn’t tell if it was from anger, or something else entirely. So he hinged his bets on the latter, and summoned up the most charming smile in his arsenal.   
  
“Well I wasn’t so much asking you _out_ as I was asking you _in._ ” he winked.  
  
Sam sputtered at him, quite adorably, before spinning around and stomping off as well.  
  
Ah well, he tried. C’est la vie.   
  
~  
  
Castiel’s head had cleared a little by the time Dean returned to the ambulance, silent and sullen after his exchange with Balthazar. But although Castiel’s lungs were feeling better by then, he knew he wouldn’t be able to find the breath for all the things he wanted to ask. Including what had transpired at Balthazar’s car.  
  
And he knew once he started, one question would lead to another, in an endless chain of questions. Starting with _why_? Had he moved too fast? Maybe Dean wasn’t ready for that kind of depth in their relationship? Even though it wasn’t as if he’d required Dean to reciprocate his feelings right then and there. But then maybe seeing Ben and Lisa that day had somehow reminded Dean he wasn’t ready? Or that he wasn’t ready to risk that kind of loss again? Or maybe Dean had begun to think that Castiel simply couldn’t offer the same kinds of things Lisa had?  
  
There were so many things. But he’d already wasted enough breath, leaving messages on Dean’s phone, asking them over and over again. And when it came down to it, whatever had been going through Dean’s head, Dean simply hadn’t cared enough to fight for him, or for what they had. What they _could’ve_ had.  
  
He wondered if Dean had ever felt anything for him, at all.  
  
“Are you okay?” Dean asked him gruffly, unable to look at him now, after whatever it was Balthazar had said to him.   
  
Castiel sighed, removing the oxygen mask and finally raising his eyes, now that Dean’s were turned to the ground.   
  
“…Yes.” he replied, although every fiber of his being said, “No.”  
  
Dean’s eyes flicked up to meet his at that, hearing the truth behind his lie. But this time Castiel’s gaze didn’t waver, silently daring Dean to call him on it.  
  
He didn’t know how long they stayed there, locked in that showdown, but the next thing he knew Dean was breaking the deadlock, pulling away with a sharp intake of breath, from a distance that had somehow become dangerously close to his lips.  
  
Castiel frowned as he came back to himself, his heart pounding in his ears as he exhaled a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding.  
  
“Well, you’re safe.” Dean croaked, clearing his throat with a hard swallow, before abruptly turning and walking away.  
  
Castiel didn’t even bother to try and reply. When it came down to it, he’d already said the only three words that mattered.  
  


~ _tbc_  



	8. Chapter 8

 

The sky was already softening with the beginnings of sunrise by the time the building manager gave the all clear to go back inside, but even though most of the smoke had dissipated, Castiel still felt like he was walking through a fog. He was _tired_ , and _cold_ , and all he wanted to do was wrap himself in the nest of blankets on his couch and _sleep_. Forever.  
  
So he was, understandably, _more_ than a little cranky, when for the second time that night, he was abruptly woken by a loud banging on his door. Although this time the banging was accompanied by a considerable amount of rattling, since the security chain was the only thing that really held the door closed since Dean had kicked the doorknob in.  
  
Castiel groaned as he pulled himself off the couch, his entire being a weary ‘What now?’ as he dragged himself to the door. So when he opened it, he only had the strength for a brief wash of angry disbelief, before going straight to resignation.  
  
“Dean.”   
  
Of _course_. It _had_ to be.  
  
“Hey, Cas.”  
  
Castiel stared at the other man in silence, awaiting some kind of explanation for his presence there. There wasn’t any ‘fire’ to account for it this time. And it had already been hard enough to see Dean _once_ tonight. So the man had better have a good reason for showing up, again, reopening new wounds he hadn’t even _begun_ to recover from yet.  
  
Dean cleared his throat, apparently summoning the strength to explain himself.  
  
“So… I was driving home… and uh… I ended up here.” he finally managed to get out.   
  
But it was flimsy, at best, and Castiel remained unmoved, unimpressed, the gaping hole in his chest still unsatisfied.   
  
Castiel closed his eyes against the unwelcome sight before him and took a deep breath. As deep as he could. Trying to steel himself. Trying to find the strength.   
  
But he’d been through too much today, and his body still remembered hitching sobs as he’d laughed and cried into Balthazar’s shoulder, coughing and choking gasps for air as he’d ran through his smoke filled building, the weight of Dean’s gaze pressing on him as he tried to suck in the air to scream. It remembered, and faltered. His breath, a shaky and trembling thing in his throat.  
  
That might’ve been the moment he crumpled, breaking down completely, but then suddenly Dean’s lips were on his, breathing life back into him, arms holding him close and keeping him from losing it right there in the doorway.  
  
“Don’t ever scare me like that again, you hear me?!” Dean gasped into his shoulder, hugging him almost painfully tighter. “I nearly went out of my mind when we got the call here!”  
  
“Dean…” Castiel breathed, thing only thing he could say, the only thing he could feel, smell, taste, all around him, overwhelming.  
  
“I don’t know what I’d do if something ever happened to you.” Dean whispered, still not letting go of him.  
  
“Dean…” Castiel sighed, helpless against the onslaught.   
  
It had been so long. _So_ long.  
  
So when Dean started kissing him again he couldn’t stop the groan that escaped his throat, like a man tasting water after an eternity in the desert. Couldn’t help latching on with his arms and lips, clinging, tasting, and _drowning_ in everything _Dean_. Oh god, _Dean_.  
  
“ _Cas!_ ” Dean gasped back, before Dean was burying his face into Castiel’s neck, sucking at all the points on his throat that made him weak in the knees.   
  
He didn’t know when Dean had begun to walk them towards the couch, but as soon as it hit the back of his legs, he buckled, sprawling onto his back on top of his blankets. Dean came down with him, lips never far from the next kiss, hands scrambling for the end of his shirt until it was found and being pushed upwards, exposing his stomach and chest for the next trail of Dean’s greedy mouth.  
  
By the time Dean’s teeth grazed one of his nipples, Castiel was already covered in a sheen of sweat, his heart hammering like he was coming off the end of a marathon, instead of just beginning one. Every press of Dean’s lips sent flames spiralling through his body, and every touch left an inferno in it’s wake, until Castiel had to pull Dean’s hands away from where they were pushing up at his shirt, so he could take the damned thing off altogether.   
  
The rush of air that met his heated skin was only a brief reprieve, before Dean was plastering his mouth all over the newly exposed skin as well, reclaiming every inch of lost territory. And when Dean finally met his lips again, lining the lengths of their bodies together, Castiel felt every inch of Dean’s hardness pressing against his own.  
  
Still too much clothing. Still too many barriers between them. And this time Castiel was the one scrabbling at material, tugging at Dean’s shirt until it was gone too. He tried to pull Dean back on top of him, wanting to feel Dean’s bared skin against his own, but of course, Dean chose that moment to cease the relentless pursuit of his lips, holding back to look down at him. A needy sound escaped Castiel’s throat as he thrust his hips upwards in supplication, and Dean inhaled a sharp hiss at the sudden pressure at his crotch, exhaling a shuddering gasp as his eyes fluttered shut in pleasure.  
  
When Dean opened them again, they were dark with need, pinning Castiel still beneath him.  
  
“Have you been with anyone?” Dean growled, something almost feral in his eyes as he searched Castiel’s face for his response.  
  
“…What?” Castiel blinked, taken back by the question.  
  
“Have you _been_ with anyone?” Dean gritted out again, as if Castiel hadn’t understood the first time. But Castiel had understood. His surprise came from a different place altogether.  
  
“No!” Castiel blurted angrily, pushing himself up and forcing Dean to sit back on his haunches. “How could I?!” he exclaimed, almost laughing at the absurdity of idea, “It’s only been you!”   
  
Some of the wildness in Dean’s eyes abated at his outburst, but the core uncertainty remained, and Castiel deflated, reaching up to press his hand against Dean’s cheek. “It’s always going to be you.” he said softly, a sad resignation underlying the words.  
  
Dean closed his eyes, leaning into the touch for a moment, before he was reaching up to pull Castiel’s hand away.  
  
Castiel panicked, with a sickening sense of déjà vu remembering the last time they’d been in this position, the last time Dean had pulled away from his touch. For a second he feared he might’ve said too much again, that Dean would turn tail and run, right after he’d bared his heart, yet again. But Dean merely pulled his hand far enough away to turn his lips into it, placing a soft, reverent kiss into his palm.   
  
Then Dean twisted away, opening the drawer of the lamp table and rummaging around inside it. Castiel found himself hanging on tight to Dean’s hand when he realized what Dean was doing, searching for the lube they used to keep there when they’d started getting distracted from their movie marathons on a regular basis. It was still there of course. Everything that had anything to do with Dean was still exactly where it was, the way Dean had left it.  
  
When Dean found it he turned back around, placing one more kiss into his hand, before sliding off the couch onto his knees. Dean adjusted him as he went, pulling him up to sit with his legs spread so that Dean could kneel between them. And all the while Dean kept pressing more kisses into his skin, this time making a path down his chest, over his stomach, and Castiel cleared a path for him, pushing down at his pants in anticipation.  
  
More kisses then, pressed into his thighs, all over his waiting hardness, cradled in Dean’s hands as Dean nosed into every curve of his flesh, inhaling his skin and exhaling shaky moans against it.   
  
“Cas…” Dean sighed.  
  
“Dean, please.” he moaned, his hips squirming in need. And then Dean was sucking him down, loose and wet and without any rhythm, mouth a tortuous contrast against his flushed and heated skin. When Castiel felt slick fingers nudging against him, he threw his head back with gasp, his legs automatically spreading himself wider for Dean’s entry. And Dean’s mouth never left him, never stopped tasting him as he opened up around Dean’s fingers, easily, helplessly, mindlessly babbling his need.  
  
He was still moaning incoherently when Dean finally pulled off, gently lifting his legs and hooking them over his shoulders as he positioned himself. And when Dean finally slid home, Castiel cried out, almost sobbing with relief.   
  
It had been _so_ long.  
  
And yet, he didn’t think he would _ever_ forget this.  
  
The way Dean felt inside him, they way Dean filled him, touched him, looked at him, always so reverent at first, thrusting hesitant and slow until he urged Dean into a rhythm, building steady until it was just right and taking him apart inside.   
  
But now it was as if Dean was afraid to get closer, afraid to take what he needed no matter how willing Castiel was to give it. No matter how Castiel urged and soothed and tried to pull him closer, Dean still kept a distance that began to infuriate him.  
  
And then a car drove by outside, it’s headlights shining though the blinds and lighting up Dean’s face for a moment, and Castiel sucked in a breath, suddenly seeing things he’d been too angry to notice before. The gaunt hollowness in Dean’s cheeks, the dark shadows under his eyes, as if he’d lost weight, and hadn’t slept in weeks. And most telling, the new lines in between his brows as he furrowed them in what was undeniably guilt. Guilt as he looked down at the similar mess that Castiel had become.  
  
“I’m so sorry, Cas.” Dean whispered.   
  
Castiel clenched his eyes shut, the admission twisting in his chest like a vice. Taking a shaky breath, he slid one of his legs off Dean’s shoulders, hooking it around Dean’s waist and pulling him that little bit closer, deeper.  
  
“God I missed you so much.” Dean breathed against his ear.   
  
Biting his lip against a whimper, he slid his other leg down around Dean’s waist, pulling Dean flush against his body and winding his arms around him, erasing the last of the distance Dean had tried to keep between them.   
  
Dean collapsed against him with a groan, clutching at him with something akin to desperation as he began to thrust erratically, recklessly.  
  
“You gotta know how I feel about you, right?” Dean gasped. “You gotta know I love you, right? _God_ , Cas…”  
  
He couldn’t fight back the sob that escaped his lips then, and if Dean said anything after that he didn’t hear it, coming apart as tears streamed down his face, his entire body shaking as Dean rode him through the aftershocks.  
  
He held onto Dean afterwards, running his hands through Dean’s hair as Dean gasped into his neck, straining towards completion. And when Dean came, filling him up inside, he nearly sobbed out again at the feeling of it, the need for it, Dean’s words still ringing through his ears and seeping into his bones.  
  
Long minutes passed before Dean finally pried loose of his arms, rummaging around for one of their discarded shirts to clean them off with. And then Dean was helping him arrange himself more comfortably on the couch, lying down next to him and wrapping them both up in blankets. He felt Dean’s fingers brush his cheek, tracing the contours of his face, and Castiel drifted off almost instantly under the touch, utterly exhausted, but secure again in Dean’s arms, and the comfortable warmth of Dean’s body draped along his side.  
  
~   
  
Dean watched Castiel sleep, wanting nothing more than to curl himself around Cas’ body and join him in oblivion until the past months without him were a distant memory. Lord knows he needed it. He just hadn’t been able to sleep as well as he used to with Cas by his side.  
  
Well, there were a lot of things that just didn’t feel right without Cas by his side, but that wasn’t something he let himself think about too much. Because when it came down to it, Cas was better off without him.   
  
Running into Ben and Lisa that day had been a harsh reminder of that fact, that he was just a dangerous disruption to what would otherwise be peaceful, happy lives. He’d learned that well enough the first time, after his father died, but tonight had been a harsh reminder. He’d been so scared when they’d gotten the call to Castiel’s building, a million scenarios running through his head on the way over, all of them ending with him finding Cas... _gone_. Just like his Dad. His Mom... Too many important people in his life that had meant something to him.   
  
The worry he’d felt until he’d found Cas safe and alive… No one deserved to go through that. And he’d put Lisa and Ben through it on a regular basis. Had begun to put Cas through it as well. And that just wasn’t right. Cas deserved so much better.  
  
And he’d wanted to tell Cas that, ages ago. He really had. But he also knew he wouldn’t be able to trust himself around the other man. Knew that he just wasn’t strong enough to be able to resist Castiel’s pull on him, and do the right thing.   
  
Tonight had proved it.  
  
He thought he’d managed to get away at first, when he’d stopped himself from kissing Cas at the ambulance. Cas had looked so tired, and so fragile, Dean had just wanted to pull him into his arms and never let go. But there was also so much hurt, and so much _anger_ in Cas’ eyes, Dean knew he didn’t have any right to touch him anymore, no matter how much he still wanted to.  
  
But he _really_ must’ve been exhausted after that for his brain to shut down altogether and find his way to Cas’ door, again.  
  
Maybe he’d just wanted to see the man. Make sure he really was safe and alive and real. Or something. He was pretty much lost as soon as Cas opened the door.  
  
It had been _so long_.  
  
Dean sighed, ripping his eyes away from Castiel’s sleeping face, pressing his fingertips to Cas’ lips one last time, before very carefully extracting himself from Castiel’s side. Castiel huffed unhappily in his sleep, his brows furrowing with a little frown that Dean wanted to reach over and smooth away, but instead he turned around, pulling on his clothes and padding softly as he could towards the bathroom.  
  
It took him a few seconds to realize something was off. He was so used to having all his stuff there that he didn't immediately recognize it was strange for his things to still be there in the first place. Not after all this time. And a quick check of the dresser drawers in the bedroom confirmed it - all his things were still there, exactly how he'd left them.  
  
He didn't know what to make of that. Only that it made his chest ache, the way it ached to see the shadows under Castiel’s eyes, the lines, the pale thinness of his skin. All the things he had put there.   
  
It hurt to look at the pictures of them on Castiel’s desk, happy and healthy and... together.  
  
His eyes lingered on them a lot longer than was necessary, until he wasn’t even looking at them anymore, just standing there, fingers absently running over the edge of Castiel’s desk, over and over.  
  
It was when his fingers caught on the pile of papers there that he saw it. Some official looking letter with a fancy letterhead from some private school across the country, offering Castiel a teaching job there.  
  
Suddenly Dean couldn’t breath at all.  
  
He found the duffel bag he’d left behind still under the bed where he’d stored it, and pulled it out, opening it on top of the bed and throwing his things haphazardly into the bag. He moved as quietly as possible, making quick work of the drawers, closet, bathroom... but it was when he was doing one final sweep he caught something he missed – his old Fire Dept. t-shirt, tucked under Cas’ pillow.   
  
His chest clenched impossibly tighter when he saw it, and he immediately thought to the old AC-DC t-shirt he had stashed under his own pillow, one of Cas’ he’d worn home one day and never returned. Never even washed. And on those nights when he really couldn’t get to sleep, he’d pull it out from under his pillow and press it to his face, inhaling Cas’ scent until it soothed him to sleep.  
  
That was practically every night now.  
  
But it’d been working less and less as his scent had begun to replace Castiel’s. And he hadn’t realised how much so until tonight, when he’d been surrounded by the blankets on Castiel’s couch. God the smell of him had driven Dean crazy. Cas must’ve been living in them or something. It had been pure instinct that’d made him seek out more skin then, he’d been so out of his mind. And it hadn’t been what he’d come there for, but by then there was no way he could stop things from escalating.  
  
Dean scrubbed a hand down his face in frustration, his grip slackening around the shirt. He didn’t know if he should take it with him or leave it where it was. He didn’t know what would do more damage at this point.  
  
“You’re leaving.”  
  
Dean jumped in surprise, but didn’t look up to the doorway, instead turning back to the bed to zip up his bag. “So are you, it seems.” he croaked, voice scratching over the words.  
  
“What?” Castiel replied, confusion in his voice.  
  
“St. Michaels?” Dean finally looked up, hitching his bag over his shoulder.  
  
“Oh,” Castiel frowned, “Um… That’s an old letter. I’m not—“  
  
“You should.”  
  
“But—“  
  
“You deserve better.” Dean said, brushing past Castiel.  
  
“Wait.” Castiel hissed, grabbing hold of his arm. “Is that was this is about? You think you don’t deserve me or something?”  
  
Dean flinched, unable to look Castiel in the eye.  
  
“What on _earth_ would make you think something like that?” Castiel said, the grip on his arm changing to something more soothing, sympathetic. “Was it Lisa?” he asked softly.  
  
“Dammit, Cas.” Dean sighed. “You shouldn’t have to wait around for someone who may or may not come home alive at the end of every day. You should be off molding the minds of future ivy-leaguers or something! And you should be able to have some sense of security in your life while you’re doing it!”  
  
“I’ll admit, it was a lucrative opportunity, but I turned it down Dean. I chose _you_ instead.” Cas replied, his eyes full of certainty.  
  
“Yeah, well you chose wrong, Cas.” Dean gritted out, breaking Cas’ gaze.  
  
“And what about you, Dean? What about your happiness?” Castiel asked, a lot less angry than he should’ve been. “You said you love me. We love each other. Isn’t that worth fighting for?”  
  
Dean scrunched his eyes shut, sighing wearily at the ceiling. “I’m gonna tell you what I told Ben, Cas - That just because you love someone doesn't mean you should stick around and screw up their life.”  
  
Castiel didn’t reply straight away, but his fingers tightened around Dean’s arm, drawing Dean’s eyes towards him. Cas wasn’t looking at him anymore though, his eyes turned to the ground as he tried to steady his shaking breaths.  
  
“Dean,” Cas finally whispered, “Can’t you have a little faith in us? Good things do happen.”  
  
“Not in my experience.” he replied.  
  
“Please don’t do this.” Cas begged, his voice barely audible anymore. And even though Dean ached so bad he could barely even breathe, he finally found the strength to free himself from Castiel’s grip, and turned towards the door.  
  
“Bye, Cas.”  
  


~ _tbc_  



	9. Chapter 9

 

There weren't many legitimate reasons for anyone to be left on campus at this time of night, so if anyone _did_ remain, it was probably to cause trouble. The halls were silent, the classrooms were shut, and the only illumination came from the low fluorescent glow of the exit lights over the main firedoors, creating just enough shadow to make the place feel much more eerie than if it had been shrouded in complete darkness. Just enough shadow to cloak the sign over one of the locked classroom doors, announcing that Dr. Badass was, in fact, still “IN.”  
  
“Are you sure this will work?”  
  
“Are you seriously questioning the mad skills of Dr. Badass? Besides, it’s not the first time I’ve hacked the alarm in Crowley’s classroom.”  
  
“…You _what?_ ”  
  
“That guy’s evil, bro.”  
  
“Yes, agreed.”  
  
“If the shit hits the fan though, don’t tell Ellen I was involved. I like my job here.”  
  
“I weep for the future generations of Bill Gates’.”  
  
“Anyway, what’s _your_ beef with the guy? I thought you English dudes were all peas and potatoes, or something.”  
  
“First of all, he’s Scottish. Secondly, It’s not so much for _me_ as it is for… shits and giggles?”  
  
“I like your style.”  
  
“Good man. So what do I owe you?”  
  
“Spring me a sixer of PBR and we’ll call it even.”  
  
“Classy.”  
  
~  
  
“I just don’t understand what keeps setting it off, Rufus. According to Crowley, the class wasn’t even cooking today.” Ellen sighed as she conferred with the Senior firefighter, shaking her head at the fire detectors on the ceiling one last time before turning towards the door.  
  
“Well we could adjust the sensitivity levels, but that might not be the best idea given the purpose of this particular classroom.” Rufus replied as he turned to leave with her.  
  
“I agree. Do we have any other options?” Dean heard Ellen ask as he moved to follow them.  
  
“Well, we could come in and do a lecture on fire safety?” Rufus offered as they rounded into the hallway. Dean snorted to himself at that. A friggin’ lecture wasn’t going to fix the problem, it was just something they suggested when people needed to feel like they were actually doing something about it. And the job usually fell to the senior firefighters and the Probies, which in this case, would be Sam. Dean almost snorted again, but he was lucky enough that Ellen didn’t hear him the first time.  
  
“Keep talking.” Ellen said to Rufus, but Dean didn’t hear anything the other man might’ve suggested after that, because that was when Crowley’s smarmy voice stopped him in his tracks, just before he made it out the door.  
  
“Winchester.”  
  
Dean turned around. The smirk on Crowley’s face was just as smarmy as the tone in his voice, and Dean narrowed his eyes at the man. There was just something about the smug, English bastard he _did not_ like.  
  
“So you must be the infamous Dean.” Crowley drawled, leaving his desk at the front of the class and sauntering across the room.  
  
“Excuse me?” Dean replied, taken off guard.  
  
“Heard all about you from our mutual friend Castiel.” the man grinned.  
  
Dean’s stomach dropped at the mention of Cas’ name. As it always did whenever he heard Cas’ name, or thought about him, dreamt about him, or had to fight the urge to call him, every day. In fact, his stomach was a constant, empty, pit of heaviness, all the time now.  
  
But this time was different. This time, for some reason, _Crowley_ was involved. And that just made him feel sick and slimy inside all that emptiness.  
  
“Is that right?” Dean replied, swallowing down bile. “How--” he faltered, not wanting to hear it from Crowley, but unable to pass up the chance of knowing either. Especially not in that moment, when he could still feel the weight of Castiel’s eyes on him, boring into him as he’d crossed the parking lot earlier, unable to even lift his gaze to meet those blue eyes for all that he knew it would do to him.  
  
“How is he?” he finally managed to get out. Crowley leered.  
  
“Don’t worry about dear little Castiel, I’m taking _good_ care of him.”  
  
~  
  
“Are you alright?” Balthazar asked softly, finally finding the chance to come over and check on his friend once their students were settled.  
  
“I suppose.” Castiel replied, giving him a tight smile.  
  
Balthazar smiled sympathetically in return. He knew well enough how Cassy might be feeling, if the look on his face when Dean emerged from that firetruck was any indication. Which was kind of the point of this whole exercise.  
  
“Do you want me to watch your kids for you?” Castiel asked, nodding towards the truck where Sam stood waiting for his brother and Rufus to return.  
  
Balthazar blinked in surprise at the offer. He considered it for a brief moment, worrying his lip as he took in the hulking form leaning against the trunk, but then remembered there was a bigger agenda here.  
  
“No,” he eventually replied, wincing at the hesitation in his voice, “No, I’m fine.” he reaffirmed, trying to sound more certain.  
  
“Are you sure?” his friend prodded, catching the slight hesitation and raising an eyebrow at it. Damn Cassy’s perceptiveness.  
  
“Yes, I’m sure.” he replied, more certain this time, but more regretful as well. He sighed, trying to shake it off. “Anyway, don’t you need me to watch your kids for _you?_ ” he said, effectively changing the subject and attempting to steer the plan back on the rails.  
  
“…Why?” Castiel asked after a surprised moment, unsure what he was suggesting. But from the wary look on Castiel’s face he could tell his friend was already dreading the forthcoming answer. As he well should.  
  
“Well _I_ sure wouldn’t want to leave any of _my_ ex’s alone with my current boyfriend. _Especially_ when said ex never liked my current boyfriend to begin with.” Balthazar explained slowly.  
  
“I’ve told you several times already, Balthazar; Crowley is _not_ my boyfriend.” Castiel hissed.  
  
“Well he probably won’t be much of _anything_ when Dean’s through with him.” he huffed in exasperation. And from the way Castiel paled at that, he could tell his friend _finally_ understood how explosive the situation was.  
  
Balthazar found himself smirking before he could think better of it.  
  
“Balthazar, tell me you didn’t have anything to do with this.” Castiel threatened lowly, his glare beginning to fill with terrifying wrath.  
  
“I didn’t have anything to do with this.” he replied immediately, schooling his features into innocence.  
  
“I’m going to kill you.”  
  
~  
  
“Crowley!” Castiel called out, grabbing onto the edge of the doorjam as he skidded into the classroom from the hallway.  
  
“Speaking of!” Crowley lit up at the sight of him, grinning like the cat that ate the canary. Mere inches away, Dean stood fuming, fists clenched and red-faced, looking for all the world like he was about to punch Crowley right in the face. Castiel eyed the two men uncertainly.  
  
“Are you… alright?” he directed at Crowley, and Dean’s gaze seemed to darken even further, his fists clenching impossibly tighter.  
  
“Peachy! Just another false alarm, after all.” Crowley grinned even wider, “Come to check on me? Aren’t you an angel!” he winked.  
  
And then Dean was storming past him, disappearing around the corner of the doorway into the hallway before Castiel even realized what was happening.  
  
“Oh dear, Dean seems a little upset.” Crowley smirked, the curl of his lips mocking the concern in his voice. “What’s got _his_ knickers in a bunch?”  
  
“I… don’t know.” Castiel replied, staring at the empty space where Dean had left. He should've been used to it by now - watching Dean walk away from him. But he wasn't. In fact, if anything, it felt worse, every time it happened.  
  
He found himself having to fight the urge to run after the other man and explain everything, apologize for whatever Crowley might have insinuated and reassure Dean that he was still the only one he wanted.  
  
But instead he reminded himself that he didn’t owe Dean anything anymore. And tried not to feel like that was a lie.  
  
~  
  
When Dean came home from his shift that evening he was so exhausted, so tired of feeling betrayed, and _angry_ , that at first he didn’t notice Castiel was right there, waiting for him on the front step of his house. But as soon as he saw the other man it all came rushing back, surging on a wave of adrenalin so fierce it washed away all the color from the world and left behind a sea of red.  
  
“What the hell are you doing here, Cas?” he growled.  
  
“I’m sorry, but you weren’t answering your phone, and I needed to explain.” Cas rushed to answer, stepping off the porch towards him.  
  
“There’s nothing _to_ explain, I get it just fine.”  
  
“Dean, please.” Castiel placated softly, “I don’t know what Crowley led you to believe but--”  
  
“Crowley?!” Dean snapped, interrupting him. “Of all the people you could choose, you had to pick _Crowley?_ ”  
  
“It’s not what you think, Dean! It was only _one_ casual dinner, on the way home from work once!”  
  
“Just one dinner, huh? Well it only took one dinner for you to spread your legs for _me_.”  
  
It was a low blow. And he hadn’t realised he’d said it until he was spinning into the wall of his house, a loud crack ringing in his ears and sending stars through his vision.  
  
And then it wasn’t until he was being slammed back into the wall, held up by the force of the fists clenched in his collar, that he began to feel the telltale throb in his jaw from the punch Cas had thrown.  
  
“How _dare_ you?!” Castiel seethed, “How _dare_ you say that to me?!” Cas slammed him back into the wall again, furious. “ _Everything_ changed for me that night, Dean. I’d never felt so fearless, or free, or so like _myself_ before… and _you_ did that.“ Castiel barked out a bitter laugh. “You changed my life, Dean… and then you ruined it!” he shouted, throwing him against the house one more time before turning away.  
  
Dean slumped down the wall a bit, stunned into silence. When Castiel whipped around again, he couldn’t help but flinch, unsure if the other man was coming around with another blow. But Castiel’s hand had only come up to run through his own hair, heaving a weary sigh before he launched his next attack, this time through words alone.  
  
“So it only took one night for me to… to fall in love with you.” Cas huffed out, and when Dean hissed in a sharp breath at the words Castiel sighed at him in pained exasperation. “At least I was brave enough to go after what I wanted, for once. _You_ made me feel that brave.” Cas’ eyes softened for a moment before turning hard with anger again. “And _you_ … It only took 3 little words to send you running for the hills! You know what, Dean? You’re a coward.”  
  
“What?” Dean sputtered, finally snapping out of it. “How am I a coward? I run into burning buildings for a living! That’s the whole point Cas! I’m trying to be the stronger one here and protect you!”  
  
“From _what?_ Yourself?!”  
  
“ _Yes!_ ”  
  
“Well great job you’ve done so far, Dean!” Cas yelled, and Dean reeled back from the bitter sarcasm in his in his voice.  
  
Cas took a step back again and raised a hand to his face, covering his eyes as he massaged his temples and sighed.  
  
“I am _so_ tired of going around in these circles with you.” he murmured quietly.  
  
“Then don’t.” Dean sniped.  
  
“Then don’t act like a jealous boyfriend around people I may or may not be dating!” Cas shot back.  
  
“Okay!”  
  
“Alright!”  
  
They glared at each other for another second before Cas whirled away again, a strangled sound of frustration escaping his throat as he visibly tried to calm himself down. When the other man finally turned around again, the anger in his eyes had simmered, but was replaced with something that looked a lot like… pity.  
  
“Dean,” he started softly, and Dean already knew that this was probably going to hurt more than anything Cas had said before, “I know what it’s like to be afraid to let people in… but I hate the thought of you spending the rest of your life alone.” Castiel sighed sadly. “You deserve to have that family you want so badly, someone to come home to at the end of the day that makes it all worthwhile. And I thought I could be that person for you… but you keep pushing me away. So maybe I just need to accept that it’s not meant to be me.”  
  
Cas looked up at him then, like he wanted Dean to say something. Like maybe he wanted Dean to tell him that he was wrong, and that he _is_ the one, and to please _please_ stay, forever… but Dean couldn’t. He just couldn’t bring himself to form the words. And after a long moment of waiting, Cas finally took a deep breath and said,  
  
“Goodbye, Dean.”  
  
And there it was. Exactly what he'd been trying to get Cas to do all along. Maybe even since that first morning after together.  
  
But there was little satisfaction to be found as he watched Cas finally walk away him.  
  
~  
  
When Sam came home that night he wasn’t all that surprised to find Dean slumped on the couch, staring bleary-eyed at the television with no volume on, the coffee table covered in ring marks from the empty glass standing next to a bottle of Jack.  
  
What _did_ surprise Sam, however, was the melted bag of ice laying forgotten on the seat next to him, no longer any use to the dark bruise that had formed along his brother’s jaw.  
  
“Dean!” he exclaimed, “What the hell happened?!’  
  
Dean grunted, shifting a little in his seat as he huffed an annoyed sigh at the question. Sam waved his open arms at Dean in silence, waiting for an answer.  
  
“Cas was here.” Dean finally replied.  
  
Sam sighed, flopping down on the couch next to his brother. Reaching for the empty glass on the table, he poured himself a much needed fifth as well. As much as he just wanted to crawl into bed, it looked like his day wasn’t over just yet.  
  
“What did you _say_ to him?” he asked, halfway awed. He’d never known Castiel to be anything other than patient and even-tempered, so for him to have punched Dean, things must’ve been _really_ bad.  
  
“What did _I_ say to _him?_ He called me a friggin’ coward!” Dean turned to him, disbelief on his face. “Firefighter! _Hello?_ ” he slurred, waving his hands at himself.  
  
“And _that’s_ why he punched you.” Sam deadpanned. Dean huffed again and looked at the television.  
  
“He’s dating Crowley.” Dean finally muttered.  
  
“Oh, okay…” Sam replied knowingly. “Let me guess, you acted like your typical caveman self and Cas socked you one.”  
  
Dean remained silent. Which meant Sam had got it right in one.  
  
“You ended it, Dean. What did you expect would happen? That he would wait around for you forever? Alone?” Sam prodded softly.  
  
“Yes! No!” Dean huffed. “Just... not Crowley. Cas deserves better.”  
  
“He _had_ better.”  
  
“No he didn’t, Sammy.”  
  
Sam almost cried in frustration then, because it just killed him that his brother, the man who practically raised him, his _hero_ , thought so little of himself. And he couldn’t help but feel that maybe the reason Dean thought that way might partially be his own fault as well.  
  
“Dean,” he took a deep breath, “Did it ever occur to you that the reason you keep pushing people away is not because you’re afraid of what you’ll do to _them_ , but because you’re afraid of what they’ll do to _you?_ Maybe you’re afraid to let people in, because then you have to be afraid of losing them.”  
  
“Yeah well can you blame me? Everyone I’ve ever cared about has left me! Mom died! Dad worked all the time, drank when he didn’t, and then he died too! Lisa didn’t want me, and _you_ were off at college!” Dean added bitterly. Sam flinched. He knew Dean was going to bring that up, but it didn’t make him feel any less guilty about it.  
  
“Dean, of _course_ Lisa wanted you. Who wouldn’t? You were fantastic with Ben. And you two would probably still be together if you hadn’t been so set on pushing her away. And… and I came back didn’t I?”  
  
Dean didn’t reply, blinking bleary-eyed at the television, but Sam could tell it was beginning to sink in.  
  
“Shit happens, Dean. People die, people move on… People fall in love. You just gotta learn to take it when it comes, and fight to hold on to the good things, to balance out the bad a little. And you can’t keep trying to shield other people from your own fears, or you’re going to end up creating the very situation you’re afraid of, every time.”  
  
Sam could almost see the gears turning in Dean’s brain at that.  
  
But then he also saw the moment Dean gave up, and shut down, huffing another sigh and bringing the bottle to his lips again.  
  
“S’too late.” Dean slurred, his eyes glassy. “No more circles. He’s gone. For real now.”  
  
Sam sighed, knowing he wasn’t going to get any further tonight. He sat back to finish his drink, and by the time he was done, Dean was asleep. He pulled the bottle out of Dean’s grip, went to the kitchen to drain the bag of melted ice, then returned to the living room to cover his brother with the blanket off the back of the couch. He wondered how many times Dean had done this for their father when they were growing up, all those times John had passed out drunk in front of the television, late at night, alone. And he couldn’t help but wonder, if maybe it was just his turn in the cycle, picking up pieces that would never be whole again.  
  


~ _tbc_  



	10. Chapter 10

 

“Castiel?”  
  
“Sam!” Castiel exclaimed in surprise, looking up from his marking and finding the younger Winchester brother standing at the door of the teacher’s lounge. “What are you doing here?”  
  
“I came to talk to you about Dean.” Sam replied, entering the room.  
  
“Oh.” Castiel’s face fell minutely before he tried to smile again, small and tight. “Is his…” Castiel gestured towards his face, “...alright?”  
  
“Yeah,” Sam replied, huffing a laugh. “Don’t worry, I’m sure he deserved it.”  
  
Castiel breathed a small laugh of his own, mostly a sound of relief, surprised at Sam’s generosity over the whole situation. “Thank you, Sam.” he smiled, more genuine this time.   
  
Sam just stared at him for a moment, silent and thoughtful, before he eventually sat down at the table, sighing. Castiel raised his eyebrows in curiosity, but waited patiently for the other man to work up to whatever it was he wanted to say.  
  
“Look I’m really sorry about coming here to do this, but…” Sam paused, sighing again, “He’s really miserable, Cas. Could you just… give him another chance?”  
  
Castiel sucked in a surprised breath as he was hit with the full force of Sam’s infamous puppy-dog eyes. The request alone was enough to send his conflicting emotions into turmoil, without the added pressure of that gaze, and in the end he had to look away.  
  
“ _He_ broke it off with _me_ , Sam.” Castiel sighed. “He kept telling me I could do better, that I deserved better. And I thought he was being ridiculous at first, but I suppose the real problem was that I just… wasn’t enough, or something. Not enough to make him want to fight for us in any case.” Castiel frowned. “Maybe I couldn’t offer him the same things Lisa did, I don’t know.” he added, remembering the chance meeting that had set off this downward spiral.  
  
“No, Cas!” Sam jumped in vehemently, “You were right about him being ridiculous. It was never about Lisa. Well, it in a way was. He just didn’t want to expose her, or you, to the kind of hurt he’s been through… because he loves you.”   
  
Castiel’s chest constricted at that, and he had to swallow down the lump in his throat before he replied. “That may be true Sam, but I don’t know what more I can do.”   
  
“It _is_ true, Cas. You gotta know that, right?” Sam replied softly. And the words were so similar to what Dean had said to him that last night they’d spent together, Castiel had to bite his lip to keep the tears from spilling over.  
  
"It’s just how Dean works.” Sam continued. “The more he keeps throwing himself onto the proverbial fire for you just _proves_ how much he cares about you.”  
  
“And what am I supposed to do with that if it ultimately means he keeps pushing me away?” Castiel shot back in frustration. Sam’s eyebrows flew up in surprise at the sudden outburst, but his eyes softened again sympathetically.  
  
“Just keep trying, Cas. Please. No matter what Dean says to chase you away.” Sam grinned. “I think he’s starting to come around, since you knocked some sense into him.”   
  
Castiel exhaled another small laugh at that, but couldn’t hold his smile for long. As much as he wanted tell Sam, “Yes, I’ll keep trying…” he just didn’t think he could. He’d already given Dean more chances than he should have, and gotten burned for it. He’d learned his lesson.  
  
“I’ll think about it.” he replied instead.  
  
“…Okay.” Sam replied after a moment. “Okay. I guess that’s all I can ask you to do.” he said, standing up to leave. “Thanks, Cas.” he smiled ruefully.  
  
“Goodbye, Sam.” Castiel replied.  
  
Unfortunately, just when Sam got to the door, it swung open, and Balthazar walked in.  
  
“Sam!” Balthazar exclaimed, stopping in his tracks.  
  
“Balthazar.” Sam sputtered, turning red.   
  
Balthazar huffed out a breathless chuckle. “Awkward.” he smiled weakly.   
  
“Um… yeah.” Sam returned a wan smile.  
  
Balthazar looked around the room, seeing Castiel at the table, then turned back to Sam. “Let’s talk outside.” he gestured towards the door. Sam followed Balthazar out, leaving Castiel alone in the teacher’s lounge, but much to his chagrin he could still hear every word echoing from the empty hallway outside.  
  
“So how’ve you been?” Balthazar asked Sam amicably.  
  
“Why didn’t you ever call me back?” Sam asked, cutting through the preamble. “I thought we had a good time.” he said softly.  
  
“We did.” Balthazar returned, sounding surprised. “I thought _you_ weren’t interested, so I thought I’d just… let it go gracefully.”  
  
“I _was_ interested.” Sam replied with some vehemence. Maybe it shocked Balthazar a bit, because he didn’t say anything in reply, and the silence stretched between them.   
  
Then Sam suddenly huffed a laugh.  
  
"I’m sorry if I didn’t seem interested, I’m just… not the kind of guy that puts out on a first date.”   
  
“Oh.” Balthazar replied. “Well I _am_.”   
  
Castiel snorted at Balthazar’s brazenness.  
  
“Huh.” Sam replied. The silence stretched again.  
  
“Look. Sam. I suppose that’s the point I’m trying to make.” Balthazar finally said.  
  
“I don’t understand.” Sam replied.  
  
“…You’re too good for me.”   
  
Castiel sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.   
  
“Not this again.” Sam groaned.  
  
“I’m sorry?” Balthazar asked, confused.   
  
“Look, don’t give me that, okay? I like you and I want to give this a shot, and that should be all that matters. It’s that simple.” Sam said determinedly.  
  
“Oh.” Balthazar breathed, sounding pleased. And then he made a surprised, choked off sound, followed by another long stretch of silence, filled with decidedly less awkwardness, and much more discomfort from Castiel’s side of the door.  
  
Thankfully that was when Sam’s phone chose to go off, interrupting the two men from… _whatever_ it was they were doing. Sam murmured an apology, and whatever Balthazar murmured in reply was too quiet for Castiel to hear, but there was no mistaking the change in tone from before. They sounded like they were entirely on the same page now – breathy, pleased, almost hopeful - and when Balthazar entered the room again he looked very flushed and very, _very_ happy.   
  
Suddenly Castiel felt very, _very_ stupid.  
  
The smile on Balthazar’s face said it all.  
  
And if love isn’t worth the risk, then what was?  
  
Castiel stood abruptly, grabbing his phone and heading to the door. And as he brushed past the other man, Balthazar murmured, “Go get him, Cas.”  
  
~   
  
“This is Dean’s phone, you know what to do.”  
  
Castiel cursed as he got Dean’s voicemail again, and quickly hung up so he could type a message instead, asking to speak face-to-face. But considering the way their last meeting went, he could understand why Dean would be reluctant to reply.  
  
Unfortunately Sam wasn’t answering either, but that made sense, since he’d just left and was probably driving.  
  
Screw it. He was tired of letting all this ridiculous melodrama eat away at his soul. He _knew_ how Dean felt about him. How Dean _still_ felt about him. He’d just go wait on Dean’s doorstep again until Dean came home. Make Dean understand that he wasn’t going anywhere, ever, no matter what Dean said or did to push him away.   
  
He knew it was right thing to do now, deep in his bones. He’d been telling himself over and over to ‘be strong’ and move on, let Dean go and maybe find someone new. He’d thought he was being weak for still trying to hold on after everything Dean did to push him away. But now he realised he’d had it the wrong way around. That he was being weak by running away from what he knew was right, difficult as that road would be. Dean was worth waiting for, worth fighting for, and that’s just what Castiel was going to do.  
  
Castiel headed back towards the teacher’s lounge to grab the rest of his things, feeling renewed by a determination he hadn’t felt in weeks.  
  
But as soon as he re-entered the lounge he was stopped in his tracks, seeing Balthazar standing in front of the room’s small television with a stricken look on his face. Castiel felt all the breath rush out of him as he saw the news report currently on the screen, the entire frame taken up by an old building, completely engulfed in flames and setting the buildings around it alight as well.  
  
“Sam’s emergency call…” Balthazar trailed off, turning to look at him, eyes filled with worry that no doubt matched his own. In the background the news anchor droned on, explaining how a sink fire was the suspected cause of the blaze, that all the surrounding brigades were being called in to help manage the conflagration and that the area should be avoided if possible.  
  
“Dean…” Castiel gasped, panic starting to rush through him. Dean just couldn't be in that chaos. He just couldn't.  
  
“It’ll be alright.” Balthazar whispered, reaching out to squeeze his arm in comfort.  
  
But what if it wasn’t?   
  
Castiel didn’t want to think it. He just couldn’t bear the thought of something happening to Dean, especially not after the way they’d left things.  
  
He hurried over to the table to collect his keys, and flew out the door.  
  
~   
  
Dean kicked through the remains of the door, widening the opening he’d created with an axe so he and Rufus could pass through. They didn’t have much time. The building was already starting to sag in on itself from the weight of the water coming in from outside and they had to get this lady _out_.   
  
Dean couldn’t believe the building was still in use. It couldn’t have been legally safe to live in anymore. And yet people still lived there - Elderly people, young families – all living in this delusion of safety while the homes they’d created were doomed to crumble inwards on themselves at the slightest form of pressure. He didn’t know how the building owner had passed the safety inspections, but considering the part of town, it was most likely done under the table.  
  
The building wasn't going to make it. All they could really do was get everyone out and try to keep the fire from spreading to the buildings around it, probably just as old and structurally unsafe as well.  
  
They were barely able to see through the smoke as they entered the flat and began to search, yelling out to be heard through their masks. Dean did a sweep of the kitchen while Rufus checked the bedroom, and when the older man eventually re-emerged he had the woman with him. She was nearly unconscious from smoke inhalation, but thankfully she was able to walk with her arm slung around Rufus’ neck. It was a good thing the neighbors had noticed the woman hadn’t made it outside, or the building would most likely have gone down with her in it.   
  
Dean hauled ass after Rufus, helping him get the woman through the door and to the stairs. Already the ceilings were starting to collapse, furniture crashing through floors and creating a minefield of falling debris around them. Then suddenly a large-backed television fell through the ceiling, right on the stairs in front of Dean.  
  
“Dean! You okay?!” Rufus yelled, turning back to check on him.   
  
“I’m okay, keep going!” he yelled back, motioning for Rufus to get the woman out as he climbed over the television. Rufus nodded, turning back to the entrance and guiding the woman out.  
  
Had it not been for the television, Dean would’ve been right behind Rufus, safely away from danger in those few remaining steps. But as it was, those few seconds of delay made all the difference, the entire entrance collapsing on itself as soon as Rufus exited, trapping Dean under a huge pile of burnt, wet, _heavy_ debris.  
  
He was lucky to still be alive. If it hadn’t been for the strange angle one of the support beams had fallen, he wouldn’t be. But while the beam had managed to keep most of the debris off of him, it also had him effectively trapped, pinned by the leg and unable to escape.   
  
At least his leg wasn’t broken. It was a little painful, but mostly he was just… _stuck_. And everytime he tried to lift the beam off his leg, the debris balanced precariously above it began to teeter dangerously, creaking and groaning like the whole pile would collapse even further.  
  
“Son of a _bitch!_ ” Dean cursed, collapsing back onto the ground. At the rate the rest of the building was going, he didn’t have time to wait for a team to cut through the rubble for him. Not that he would want anyone else to risk their safety either.   
  
He just hoped someone had the sense to keep Sam away if he was on the scene.  
  
“Fuck.” Dean cursed again. Suddenly he was so, _so_ very tired. And he didn’t even _want_ to get up, even if he could have. This was it. He was going to go, the exact same way his father had. And just like his father, he was going to die alone. Unloved. A miserable end to a truly _pathetic_ existence.  
  
Maybe it was better this way.  
  
Maybe now Sam would get on with his life, go back to law school and make something of himself instead of having to worry about his big brother and the so-called family business.   
  
But either way, the kid had turned out alright. Somehow Dean hadn’t been able to screw _that_ up, at least.  
  
And at least… At least for a short time, he had Cas. At least for a while he had that happiness. Had love.  
  
He tried to focus on that, as the smoke became so thick and black he could barely see the flames consuming the walls around him. Tried to imagine Cas’ face, his voice, the smile he had only for Dean. He remembered the first time he saw that smile, lit up by the glow of candlelight, that first dinner they’d had together. The same smile he would wake up to, warm in Cas’ arms, and would sometimes catch when Cas thought he wasn’t looking. And then there was Cas’ low laugh in his ears, the way he moaned his name when they… _God_ the way Cas had practically glowed in the low light of his bedroom that first night together, the way it felt so right, so easy to fall into each other, like he’d found… _home_.  
  
He tried to imagine what Cas would look like five years from now, the crinkles around his eyes a little deeper, his gaze a little wiser. Ten years from now, maybe some white at his temples, maybe needing glasses then, one of those tweed jackets with elbow patches to complete the ridiculously sexy teacher stereotype. Would he still smile at Dean the same way? Still watch over him at night, chasing his nightmares away? Cas would be a great Dad. Maybe they could’ve adopted. Expanded their little family. Taught some little boy, or girl, all about Zeppelin and Star Wars and all the other awesome things in the world. And every time they told each other “I love you” the other would reply “I know” just like Han Solo and Princess Leia.  
  
Suddenly Dean felt ridiculously stupid.   
  
He could’ve had all those things. Everything Cas had offered. How could he have even _begun_ to think living would be worth it with anything less?  
  
Even if they’d only had the time together until now, it would’ve been worth it, because the thought if it all ending now, the way they’d left things, was _so_ much worse.  
  
He wished he could at least tell Cas he was sorry, for being such an idiot. At least tell him that he _was_ the one, and that he _did_ want forever, however short that might’ve been.  
  
And god _damnit_ he wasn’t going to just lie here and wait for his death, when there was even the _slightest_ chance he could have it all. When there was the slightest chance he might be able to lift the beam off his leg, and if he did, then just _maybe_ a great pile of debris _wouldn’t_ come crashing down on him. And if it _didn’t_ , then _maybe_ there was a chance he _just might_ be able to crawl his way through the rubble, and live to see another day, another smile.  
  
~   
  
Castiel wasn’t sure how long he’d been pacing the sidewalk outside the fire station, it could’ve been fifteen minutes or fifteen hours for all that he could tell the difference, but he just needed some _air_.   
  
Principal Harvelle’s daughter Jo had been kind enough to let him sit in the office with her while she was working dispatch, but he’d found that having constant updates of what was happening on the scene much more nerve wrecking than not having them. Everytime he heard the scratch of an incoming communication over the radio his heart leapt into his mouth, thickening his throat with dread until he just couldn’t breath anymore. He’d had to leave.  
  
He couldn’t go far though. If he stayed on the sidewalk at least he would see the trucks if they came back anytime soon.   
  
Realistically he knew there was little chance he would’ve caught Dean at the station before getting called out, but he’d had to at least _try_. But Dean had been with one of the first trucks to respond. Then the fire had quickly become such a problem that they had begun to call in men who were off duty as well, like Sam, needing everyone available to stop the fire from spreading across the block.   
  
The last thing he’d heard was that they were still evacuating the last of the residents when the building had begun to collapse in on itself.  
  
He prayed Dean had gotten out.   
  
He couldn’t imagine not seeing Dean’s face again, or not hearing his voice, even if all Dean did was tell him to get lost again. He understood now more than ever, why Dean had been trying to protect him from this, because he didn’t know if he could stand this feeling much longer, this waiting, this _fear_.   
  
And all he was doing was sitting on a sidewalk. He could barely begin to imagine what Dean must be going through, being the one who was actually in danger. And Castiel had just let him go, right into it, without knowing there might be something worth coming back to.  
  
He swore if Dean came home alive, he’d never let him go again.  
  
God. _Please_.  
  
…  
  
A beat.  
  
Maybe two.  
  
Blinking stupidly at the sky in shock as the sound began to sink in - the distant roar of firetruck engines, returning to the station.  
  
His heart leapt into his throat as he scrambled to his feet, thudding louder every second it took for the trucks to come closer, until finally the sound of the engines were so loud it drowned out the pounding in his ears.  
  
Finally the trucks rounded the corner to the station, but it was just too dark to see anything as they drove past, and he had to wait the excruciating minutes longer for the trucks to park in their brightly lit garage before the brigade could dismount.  
  
Sam’s was the first familiar figure he saw, barely recognizable with all the soot on his face and streaked all over his uniform. He felt a brief moment of relief at seeing the younger Winchester safe, but when Sam froze, finally looking up and seeing him waiting there, Castiel’s heart stopped for a second, fearing the worst.  
  
Then Sam grinned.  
  
And it was as if the world began to right itself with his smile, as in the next moment Dean emerged from the truck, and Castiel felt his heart start again.  
  
Dean was favoring one of his legs as he moved, and was _covered_ in black, but he was _alive_. And when he finally noticed Sam just standing there, grinning like an idiot, he finally raised his eyes, and saw Castiel.  
  
Castiel started to rush forward, but suddenly remembered Dean might not want to talk to him at all, and had to stop himself. But then Dean began to shuffle forward, slowly at first, then surging towards him, dropping his gear on the ground as he reached up to catch Castiel in his arms.  
  
“All I could think about was getting home to you.” Dean breathed into his neck, squeezing him tight. “Don’t take that job, Cas. Stay with me, I need you.”  
  
“I’m here, Dean. I’m not going anywhere.” Castiel murmured, stroking his fingers through Dean's hair in an attempt to sooth him, uncaring of the soot and ash he was getting all over himself.  
  
“I love you.” Dean whispered, clutching him even tighter, and Castiel had to pull back then, just enough to be able to see Dean’s face, and saw nothing but utter certainty in Dean’s eyes.   
  
Castiel smiled.   
  
“I know.” he replied.  
  
Dean blinked at him for a second, before his mouth began to twitch into a smile as well. And then Dean laughed out loud, pulling him close again and finally bringing their lips together in a kiss.  
  
And the moment their lips met, a chorus of cheers went up around them, appreciative whistles and catcalls of “Get a room, idjits!” yelled out amongst the scattered applause.  
  
Dean pulled back, regarding their forgotten audience with a scowl, before flipping them all the finger and dipping Castiel back into an even deeper, filthier kiss.  
  
Castiel couldn’t help but smile against Dean’s lips, laughter bubbling in his throat as Dean kissed him breathless. And by the time they finally came back up for air, their audience had long since given up and left them alone.  
  
“Cas?” Dean reached up to Castiel’s face, cupping his cheeks and holding him there, gazing at him seriously for a moment. “I’m going to tell you I love you, every day from now on, you hear me?”  
  
“Then I’ll be there to hear it, every day.” Castiel replied as he held Dean his arms, without any plans of letting go, for as long a time as they were given.  
  
  
 _~ fin_  
  
  
“Courage is grace under fire.” -- Ernest Hemingway  
  



	11. epilogue

 

Of course, it would be just Dean’s luck that Bobby assigned him to give fire safety talks to Crowley’s classes with Sam instead of Rufus, seeing how he’d become so “closely tied” to the school and all. But fortunately for Dean, Sam had taken to it like a fish in water, and all Dean had to do was stand impressively in his uniform, as far away from Crowley as possible.  
  
“So yes, fires are very dangerous. But if you can do your best to keep calm, it’ll be easier to remember the things we talked about today, and stay safe.” Sam said, winding down their last lecture, and Dean sighed to himself in relief.  
  
And as if things weren’t already looking up, the classroom door opened, and in walked the best sight for sore eyes ever.  
  
“Ah Mr. Milton, Mr. Roché, what brings you to my class today?” Crowley asked. Though from the smirk on his face he clearly knew the answer already.  
  
“Never hurts to be informed, does it?” Balthazar piped up, seeing as Castiel was deep in eye-conversation with Dean.  
  
“No, I suppose not.” Crowley raised an eyebrow, obviously not fooled by the thinly veiled excuse. “But I believe we were just wrapping up?” he said, turning to Sam.  
  
“Yes!” Sam blurted, sporting an unmistakable blush as he turned his attention back to the class. “Does anyone have any questions about anything we talked about today?”  
  
“Yes, Dante." Crowley pointed to a boy raising his hand in the front row.  
  
“Is there any volunteering or anything we can do to help out?” the boy asked.  
  
Sam rattled off a few of their volunteer options, counselling programs and charities, wisely choosing _not_ to mention their fund-raising Calendar.  
  
“Can you really light a fire with pee?” another kid in the back row asked.  
  
Friggin’ Youtube.  
  
“Do you have a girlfriend?”  
  
“Becky, that’s hardly appropriate.” Crowley chastised. “Regardless of how curious we all are.” he added, leering at Sam. Dean bristled.  
  
“Yeah for all we know, he might have a _boy_ friend.” he interrupted pointedly, “Like I do.” he added, smirking at Crowley. And the scowl on the man’s face was almost as priceless as the adorable squawking noise Castiel made at that.  
  
“ _Do_ you have a boyfriend?” Becky cooed, still disturbingly over-eager.  
  
“Becky!” Crowley exclaimed, rounding a censuring glare on the girl again as Sam hemmed and hawed, desperately trying not to look at Balthazar. Even though they’d been dating each other exclusively for the past month or so, they’d agreed to take things slow, which put Sam in an awkward position when it came to describing the status of their relationship. But he was only left floundering a few seconds more before Balthazar piped up again and answered,  
  
“Yes. Yes he does.”  
  
Sam’s gaze whipped up at that, eyes locking with Balthazar’s and lighting up at the shy smile on Balthazar’s face. They didn’t even move when the class bell rang and students began filing out of the room, oblivious to anything and everything but the chick-flick moment they were having, and Dean had to suppress the urge to hurl as he rushed to Castiel’s side.  
  
“Tell me we’re not that gross.” he grimaced.  
  
“We’re not that gross.” Castiel grinned, humoring him.  
  
“We are _so_ not double dating.”  
  
“Agreed.”  
  
“I love you.” _  
_  
  
 _~ fin_


End file.
